#its really soft ep

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[vampiresinthedaylight]

watching the young pope

[ilikeevilblondes]

Lazy Mornings

18+ MDNI!

Summary: You and Joel don't have to be anywhere anytime soon.

W.C: ~1.8k

Warnings: husband!joel x f!reader. unprotected p-in-v, praise!, soft!joel, no specified ages, morning sex, lotta fluff, eww corny coupley shit, (post-jackson era!)

Note: still in denial about ep 2... also, surprise! guess who broke free from her exam hiatus to churn this out in one afternoon sesh @whaddupbaby

The early morning sun peeked through the sheer linen of the curtains, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. There was no birdsong, no familiar hustle and bustle of Jackson’s populace, nothing beyond the peaceful stillness of the room. 

As far as you were concerned, there was only you and Joel.

Your back was against his bare chest, his broad frame encompassing you from behind as you lay on your side, limbs tangled together like crawling ivy.

His mouth skittered down your neck, lips tenderly pressing unspoken ‘I love you’s into your skin, branding you with his touch.

“No patrol today?” You mused sleepily, baring more of your neck for him.

“Mm-mm.” Joel hummed in response, breathing you in and gently tracing indistinguishable, lazy shapes on your hip. He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His words were warm against your cheek. “I’d rather spend a few hours with my wife.”

You smiled. “Lucky woman.” 

“Her husband’s even luckier.” He drawled, his rich, Texan accent reintroducing itself in a deep rumble the way it did only when he was half-awake.

“Somehow I doubt that.” 

“You always gotta put up a fight, don’t you, Mrs Miller?” Joel chuckled, kissing your cheek.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check, Mr Miller.” You turned your head to meet his gaze.

And meet his gaze, you did. Two pools of deep brown stared back at you, steady, molten, and impossibly soft. Something about the way Joel looked at you made the world slow to a hush, as if the morning itself had bent to its knees, reverent to the quiet worship in his eyes.

It wasn’t just love. It was a kind of knowing—like he was memorising you in real time, committing the curve of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes, the sound of your breath to some sacred, secret archive he was happy to hold the only key to. 

“Believe me, ma’am, I am putty in the palm of your hand.” His voice was low and gentle.

“You big flirt.” 

Joel only smiled, slow and sleepy, like he had all the time in the world to love you, and no intention of ever stopping.

You brought a hand to cup his face, caressing his cheek and feeling the roughness of his grey-streaked stubble under the pad of your thumb.

And he took your hand, your fingers dwarfed in his, and pressed the softest of kisses to your knuckles.

“Guilty as charged,” He smiled widely.

You rolled your eyes, but failed to bite back a similarly wide smile threatening to form on your lips.

“Since you don’t have patrol, does that mean we get a few hours to ourselves?”

“Mhm.” Joel sighed, releasing your hand to run his hand along your side. “Why? Got something in mind, sweetheart?”

The half-hard state of his cock against the small of your back informed you that he already knew the answer to his own question.

You, nonetheless, entertained him.

“Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’, huh? Care to elaborate?” 

“What are you, a cop?”

Joel laughed and slid his hand down to your thigh, gently hitching your leg above his hip, opening you up for him.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re really bad at dirty talk?” He hummed in between trailing his lips along your shoulder, and slowly glided his hand down your front, below your navel, dipping under the waistband of your underwear just shy of where you were aching to feel the thickness of his fingers.

“You want me to try again?”

“Be my guest, sweets.”

You placed a hand over his, interlocking your fingers and sliding it down, down, down… 

A low, almost inaudible moan escaped from his throat once he felt your puffy folds and the slick pooling from your aching cunt.

“I’m currently blanking on a witty one-liner, but I just really want you to fuck me silly.”

A murmured ‘fuck’ escaped his lips and he instinctively bucked his clothed hard-on against you.

Breathily, “yeah, I think I can do that.”

And that was how Joel ended up fucking you sideways at eight in the morning on a random Sunday.

One hand tilted your jaw up so he could suck at your pulse point as his cock lazily drove in and out of your weeping mound, held captive by his grip on your thigh splayed over his hips.

It was a good thing you were already dripping for him, because he held no patience for foreplay and endeavoured solely to feel your cunt wrapped around him. Usually, he’d take his time stretching you open with his fingers, but, fortunately, you were able to take all eight inches of him in nearly one thrust from the almost shameful amount of arousal you had collected.

Even more fortunately for you, an hour and a bit later, your godsend of a husband had managed to work four deliciously slow orgasms from you and showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

“Mmm, feel so good, baby.” He whispered against your jaw.

You whimpered at his snail-like pace. “Joel—” A strangled noise tore out of you.

A noncommittal sound came from him in reply.

“Faster. Please,”

“Sorry, sweets, no can do.” He tutted, sloppily pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin. “Wanna take my time with this pretty pussy.”

True to his word, Joel continued his almost painstakingly languid tempo.

He'd slowly drive in—all the way to the hilt, the coarse hairs at his base tickling your inner thighs. And then he’d pause to feel your drooling, velvety walls clench and flutter around him. And then he’d pull out so far you almost believed he’d dare to leave you bereft of his weeping, swollen head, before gradually feeding you his length and restarting his seemingly never-ending cycle.

All the while, he softly mumbled sweet nothings beside you, his warm breath fanning against your cheek.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well.”

“Can feel her stranglin’ me, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

“That’s it. Oh, take it, gorgeous. Yeah, there you go.”

“Look so pretty full of my cock,”

You were overstimulated, to say the least.

All you could feel was him, behind you, steadily fucking into you. All you could smell was sex and Joel; pine and musk and Marlboro Reds. All you could hear was the low rumbles of his husky baritone, your own heartbeat thudding in your ears, the obscene sounds of his length re-sheathing itself in your very welcoming cunt.

Slowly, in and out. In and out. In and out.

Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn’t notice. And even if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. 

With every leisurely thrust, his tip kissed your cervix, filling you with a familiar weight that felt like home. 

Joel was your home.

And that thought repeated over and over in your mind like a broken record as he continued fucking you like you both had all the time in the world.

Home, home, home.

“You feel so good,” You sighed.

“Yeah?” Joel slurred. “Fuck, baby. Never wanna leave this goddamn bed.”

Slowly, in and out.

In and out.

In response, you melted into him like butter on a warm dish, throwing an arm behind you to gently card through his salt and pepper curls.

Joel hummed and pressed a wet kiss to your temple before resting his chin on your shoulder, looking down at where you two were connected and letting out a low growl.

“You see that, baby?”

“Hm?” Your eyes fluttered, not registering anything except for the sensation of his big fucking cock.

Gently, Joel tilted your head downwards. 

“Look how well you take me, sweetheart.” He sighed, his face right beside yours, his eyes watching the same thing. “Look at how she’s just cryin’ for me.”

Fuck.

A creamy ring had formed around his base—no doubt a salacious mixture of his pre-come and your slick, as you had already come a mind-numbing amount of times. And there it went, disappearing into your puffy, drooling cunt over and over and over...

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, unconsciously clenching around him.

“Fuck,” Joel gritted his teeth and accidentally drove a bit too harshly into you, his cock dragging up your walls with a force he normally reserved for those special nights he’d fuck you like an animal in heat. 

That wasn’t his plan for this particular morning, but, as always, you had managed to make him lose control, if only for a second.

“Joel!” You wailed, throwing your head back.

Joel immediately shushed you. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry, s’was an accident. You’re alright, hm?” He kissed your head. “Gotta keep quiet, though. Ellie’s probably still asleep.”

You whimpered petulantly.

“My poor girl.” Joel laughed airily, then lowered his voice to coo in your ear. “Gonna give me one more?”

One more? Was he trying to kill you?

Evidently, you didn’t need to voice such a concern, as it was apparently written all over your face.

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” Joel hummed softly.

A sigh. And then, you mumbled a quiet ‘yes’.

"That's my girl."

Your husband’s warm, calloused hand came to your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-circles on the bundle of nerves until you cried out and fluttered wildly around him, your millionth orgasm of the morning washing over you like a tidal wave.

And he kept slowly fucking into you as you reached you high, and still, after. Your consciousness barely hung on by a thread, and, at the rate he was going, that thread was in danger of snapping.

Slowly, in and out. In and out.

“Joel, too—too much…”

“Shh, baby. C’mon, hold out for a little longer for me, I’m almost there.” Joel promised sweetly, pressing another kiss to your hairline. “Please, baby, just a little more.”

You heaved out a breath. A faint sigh of exhaustion, possibly one of protest.

“Just—shit, just a little more, ‘nd I’ll fill you up, hm? Fuck you nice and full…”

Joel was rambling now, his breath laboured, his eyebrows pinched in concentration, his eyes half-lidded and blurred with lust as he sawed up and out of you.

Slowly, in. Even slower, out.

Obediently, you nodded.

As promised, it took him a few more thrusts before he came with a gasp of your name, buried deep inside you—as deep as your walls would let him.

His pearly spend leaked out of your cunt (which was still stuffed full of him) as he planted kisses on every inch of skin his adoring mouth could reach.

“Did so good for me. My sweet girl,” He whispered, nudging the side of your face with his nose.

Hoarsely, you replied, “think you just about killed me.”

Joel laughed softly and carefully angled your head toward him. 

“C’mere,” He sighed, smiling.

And he tenderly slotted his lips against yours, tongue lazily slipping into your mouth and meeting your own.

And, draping a heavy arm across your waist, he pulled you closer against him, tangling his limbs with yours once more, and finding peace in the feeling of your body tucked into his.

And you both drifted into a warm, weightless sleep, letting the morning slip by. 

Because, in the quiet tangle of shared breath and steady heartbeats, nothing else mattered.

Because the two of you had all the time in the world to love each other.

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[nanasrkives]

Navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! haikyuu EP!

"FOR HER" — Sakusa Kiyoomi

a/n : its official i am entering my baby fever era :) content : GIRL DAD SAKUSA. fluff. post timeskip. headcanon.

Girl dad! Sakusa who doesn’t cry in the delivery room, but when the nurse places her in your arms, you see the change happen in his expression before he even speaks. He stands beside you with one hand resting on the bedrail, still in his zip-up, curls flattened from the long hours, eyes fixed so intently on her tiny face that he barely breathes. You offer her to him, gently, and although he nods and reaches out, it’s with a kind of quiet reverence, like he’s afraid any sudden movement might shatter something fragile. When she’s finally in his arms, wrapped in that standard-issue hospital blanket, he doesn’t look away once. “She’s really ours,” he says after a long silence, voice soft and level like he’s stating a fact that still hasn’t settled in. You’re tired and aching and overwhelmed, but in that moment — watching him fall in love so quietly — you feel steadier than you’ve felt all day.

Girl dad! Sakusa who approaches parenting the way he’s approached everything else that’s ever mattered to him — with focus, with discipline, and with the same determination that made him the top ace in the country. He just does it. He reads every product label, tracks feeding times in his phone, and practices swaddling until the corners lie flat like muscle memory. You find him at night adjusting the baby carrier straps with one of her stuffed animals, narrowing his eyes like it’s something to be mastered. In the nursery, everything has its place: pacifiers in labeled containers, diapers stacked perfectly, bottles washed and sterilized on a rotating schedule that no one asked him to create. He’s not afraid of mess — he’s an athlete, after all — but this kind of order calms him. It’s the only way he knows to make sense of something this overwhelming. When you catch him in the early mornings rearranging the drawer of onesies so the softest fabrics are on top, you don’t interrupt. You just watch because you know that this is how he’s learning to love her.

Girl dad! Sakusa who is the first to notice that post-partum hit you. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach, the way your hands linger over chores but don’t quite start them, the way you keep saying you’re fine even when your voice betrays how deeply tired you are. He doesn’t corner you about it — he just starts making it easier to breathe. He finishes bottles without being asked. He folds laundry without announcing it. He draws a bath and offers you the quiet without implying you owe him anything in return. And when you finally sit down beside him on the bed and admit, barely above a whisper, “I think something’s wrong,” he takes your hand and says, without even flinching. “We’ll take care of it. You don’t have to do it alone.” That night, when the house is quiet, he tucks her in and then tucks you in too, placing your tea on the nightstand and brushing your hair back from your forehead before placing a kiss on your forehead like he’s reminding you that you’re still being held.

Girl dad! Sakusa who keeps her world structured, calm, and clean — not out of fear, but out of habit, and a deep belief that consistency makes kids feel safe. He doesn’t scold when she forgets to wash her hands before dinner. He just walks her to the sink, adjusts the faucet for her, and says, “Let’s try again,” with the same steady tone he uses when coaching a teammate through a play. You can already see how much of him lives in her — not just in her temperament, but in her tiny routines. The way she lines up her shoes by the door. The way she wipes the table with a napkin after dinner. He never told her to do any of that — she just watched him and followed his steps.

Girl dad! Sakusa who always stops what he’s doing when she calls for him. He never rolls his eyes or tells her to wait. Whether she’s holding a drawing she drew or asking him to see the rain outside on the balcony, he gives her his full attention. She brings him stories, toys, questions he doesn’t have answers to yet, and he listens to every single one. Sometimes, she climbs into his lap mid-stretch, legs crossed beneath her, curls sticking to her forehead, and just rests there like she knows there’s nowhere safer. You glance over from the kitchen and watch as he adjusts his posture just slightly to keep her steady, continuing his cooldown stretches like her presence is just part of the routine now.

Girl dad! Sakusa who teaches himself to braid because one morning she tugs at his sleeve and says, "Papa me want hair like Mama” and he doesn’t want to be the kind of father who says i don't know how to something like that. That night, while the house is quiet, you find him on the couch with one of her dolls in his lap, video tutorial paused on his phone, fingers fumbling but determined. He practices until the parts are clean, until the elastics hold. The first few mornings, the braid sits crooked on her head — slipping by lunchtime — but she runs to you saying, “Papa did it !” every single time. When he finally gets it right, she wraps her arms around him like he just won a trophy. And later, when you're brushing your own hair before bed, he watches you for a moment from the doorway, then comes up behind you, fingers gently sweeping your strands aside. “I didn’t realize how much of you she carries,” he says, quiet and sincere. “It makes me want to do everything right.”

Girl dad! Sakusa who brushes through her damp curls with more care than you thought possible. The spirals are his — the same exact texture that still coils around his forehead after a shower — but the color is yours, unmistakable in the morning light. When she’s sitting between his legs and he’s sectioning off her hair into neat parts, you sometimes find him pausing just to look. Not because he’s unsure of the process — he’s got the rhythm down by now — but because every time he sees her, it’s a new reminder that she’s equal parts both of you.

Girl dad! Sakusa who brings her to matches and never says a word about it being a distraction, though you know how seriously he takes preparation. She always sits with you, gripping a wrinkled “Go Papa !” sign in her fists, her legs swinging off the bleachers while she yells his name through a mouthful of fruit snacks. He rarely looks into the crowd — he’s too focused for that — but today, when she screams his name mid-serve, you swear you see the smallest flicker of a smile on his face. After the game, he comes straight to you both, drops to one knee, and listens to her long-winded play-by-play with a patience that makes even the camera crew step back. You take her hand as he packs up his bag, and she says, “Papa did good today !” He doesn’t say anything, but you notice how he walks just a little taller after that.

Girl dad! Sakusa who changes his phone ringtone to a voice memo of her calling for him because he says it’s easier to hear. It plays once during a team meeting and Atsumu nearly falls out of his chair laughing, but Sakusa doesn’t even flinch. “She’s loud,” he says calmly, setting his phone face down on the table, “but she gets my attention.” When you hear it go off at home, it always makes you smile.

Girl dad! Sakusa who never talks about how much he loves being a father — not in words, at least. But you see it in how he shows up. In the way he learns her favorite breakfast, remembers the exact way she likes her blanket tucked in, memorizes the lyrics to a show he pretends to hate. You see it in how he looks at her when she doesn’t notice — like she’s the most surprising, most important thing that’s ever happened to him.

Girl dad! Sakusa who holds her hand tightly on her first day of school, walking her up to the gate with slow, even steps. She’s excited and confident. She lets go of his hand the second she sees her teacher and runs inside without looking back. You expect him to say something — maybe a joke, maybe a quiet sigh — but instead, he just stands there for a long moment. When you brush your fingers against his, he finally speaks. “She didn’t even turn around.” You lean your head on his shoulder and whisper, “She''s growing up.”

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

TAGLIST (OPEN). / @ayatakanosstuff @angelkiyo @itsmeaudrieee @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @dazaisfavgf @virgothesimp @kurooangel @evamame

[ozarkthedog]

𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

summary: Declan introduces you to a friend.

pairing: Declan O���Hara x afab!reader / Rupert Campbell Black

warnings: 18+ mdni. filth. unspecified age gap. oral sex (m). Declan calls the shots. fingering. edging. no m/m. slight anal play. dirty talk. squirting. rough sex. Rupert pushing the boundaries aka he’s a menace. cuckhold of sorts. male masturbation. cream pie. light, barely there after care. ep 8 spoilers. w.c: 2.4k

author’s note: i'm a Declan girlie but I had to write something feat. Rupert.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Soft golden rays bleed through the aged windows of the O'Hara estate. Its owner, Declan, sits comfortably on a worn chair in the middle of his study. Books and papers litter the room, even on the small sofa adjacent to the chair. As the fireplace crackles, the bright orange flames warm your skin as you kneel naked between your employer's thighs.

Declan groans as he feeds you his cock. His thighs widen, as much as his unzipped trousers will allow, on the tattered chair, giving you more room to swallow him down. His heart beats steadily under his lush brown sweater as you suckle his cock while looking up at him under your lashes.

Declan enjoyed times like these when the house was empty, and he got you all to himself. With Maud gone, leaving everything to Taggie was unfair, so he caved and hired a housekeeper. Little did he realize he'd fall head over heels for you.

You both took your time dancing around one another like nervous teenagers at a school dance. Harmless flirting and late-night conversations over the meals you'd cook for him led to Declan taking matters into his own hands.

He was used to control. He enjoyed it, really. The power felt comfortable, and he had no issue wielding it.

Declan was still on edge one day after a trifling day at Coriniuim. His usual soak and cig in the tub wasn't helping. The radio was blasting ear-aching songs, and the water was getting too cold too fast, but that all changed when you walked in on him with an armful of fresh towels.

He took a chance, one that could've ended with him locked up, but you didn't run. You followed his dubious commands and let him exert his dominance, allowing him to reign over you.

Since then, you two have been inseparable.

"Ah, right on time," Declan notes, looking at the clock perched on the mantle in his study as the large front door creaks open.

Declan mentioned inviting a friend over earlier in the day, but you didn't think he meant now.

The sight of your wide doe eyes makes his gut fervently twist. He's always appreciated someone yearning after what was his, especially an individual so well-loved by the women of Rutshire.

"Don' stop, Love," Declan instructs. His Irish accent dips low as he curls a solid hand around your head when you start to draw back. Your wary, garbled sounds vibrate Declan's cock eliciting a hiss from his lips. He sends you a pensive look and keeps you locked as the steps draw near. "You know I like people ta watch, but I wan' to try somethin' new."

Your heart lodges in your throat. Declan had divulged this kink not long after the two of you began dating. It was harmless fun flirting with other men while Declan observed from the shadows like a deviant; the journalist grew feral until he could no longer hold himself back, scurrying off with you in his arms, leaving the poor target in a stupor.

No one could ever come close to Declan; you never want them to.

"I seem to have come at a rather inconvenient time, have I not?" A pondering English baritone fills the room.

Rupert Campbell Black.

With arms crossed, the affluent man leans on the rustic doorframe. He catches your uneasy gaze with a cheeky smile, prompting a wildfire in your belly.

Declan shakes his head, his thick mustache ticking excitedly, "Not at all. Come in."

You try to move again, but Declan doesn't budge an inch. Your brows knot in confusion as your hands fly to cover your exposed bits as best you can.

"Say hello, ta Rupert, Swee'heart," Declan instructs, his dark chestnut eyes alight with devilry.

Your gaze trails from the man's supple leather loafers and pressed lined slacks to the sepia colored dress shirt that exposes a svelte chest as the top two buttons are undone. Rupert oozes high society and overt confidence, the kind of man you'd go dumb even looking at.

"My, my, where has Declan been hiding you?" Rupert croons. His azure orbs fixate with dark intrigue at your naked, shivering form.

As you greet Declan's neighbor, a slight garbled noise barely registers to the men. Tauntingly, Rupert leans over and puts a hand behind his ear, "Sorry, Angel. What was that?"

Your belly flips, and butterflies flutter carelessly in the wake of being so degraded. Still, your cunt produces a wave of arousal and clenches around nothing.

Knowing he doesn't have much patience, you chance another look at Declan and wish you hadn't. His white teeth bared, and his lips pulled back into a light sneer, like a wolf facing down prey, waiting for you to heed his command.

Declan bites back a moan at the hedonic sensation of you stringing together a messy greeting for the affluent man.

Rupert snickers. "Aren't you cute."

"Thatta' girl." He praises before thrusting his length into your throat and cutting off your air.

He waits for a beat, relishing in the watery glaze that coats your eyes and how your chest heaves. Fidgety hands dig into his darkened slacks, knocking the loose ends of his belt. Drool spills down your chin and settles at the base of his cock.

"Ya know ya waited too long ta give Rupert a warm welcome." He fumes, his expression twisting lightly with displeasure.   

With a soft growl, Declan eases his grip. You fall back on your heels, a blight, coughing up spittle and trying to suck down fresh air at the same time.

"Might I say, you've got a real treasure here," Rupert leers down at your messy face and spit-soaked breasts that make your nipples shine in the light. "Lovely to meet your acquaintance."

"Though' you migh' like a taste." Declan offers, looking up at Rupert like you weren't perched at their feet, anxiously awaiting their next move.

"Would I ever." A Cheshire grin tugs at Rupert's lips. He makes a show of folding his button-down sleeves over his muscular forearms as he stalks around you.

Declan beckons you with the tilt of his head, "C'mere, Love. I ain't done wit' your mouth."

You sniffle before taking your place between his knees once more. Declan can sense your worry as Rupert traces a finger down your spine while he crouches behind you. "Don' worry abou' him. He won' do anythin' out of line."

Declan taps his bulbous crown against your swollen lips, drawing your attention away from the blue-eyed beau. His sturdy thighs are a protective shield, enveloping you like a fortress from harm.

As curious fingers tickle your sticky thighs, your lips part with a gasp, allowing Declan to thrust into your warm, wet mouth.

"Jesus Christ, she's soaked." Rupert husks as he softly skims your glistening folds. Your cunt throbs from his unfamiliar touch, coursing a frightening spark of arousal up your spine.

"She's not 'ad much experience." Declan hisses as his crown breaches the tight confines of your throat. Your hand tugs at the thick base that's peppered with dark curls, fingers barely overlapping, pumping in time with his languid thrusts across your tongue.

"You don't say." The Englishman trails off, no doubt thinking of all the crude ways he could defile you.

As you start a slow rhythm, bouncing your head up and down Declan's cock, making the older man unashamedly moan, Rupert swipes his fingers across your seam and gathers all your shiny slick, drawing it up to your clit before lazily circling the tender bud.

Bright lights erupt under your eyelids. Blood rushes south, pooling in your core, heightening your suffocating lust as your body bends to his will.

"Ah ah, Angel." Rupert tsks, grabbing hold of your wriggling hips. His grasp keeps you stock still, unable to evade his voracious touch.

The pads of Declan's fingers press into your scalp as a soft warning. "Be good ta Rupert."

Being pushed and pulled between the two older men was agony of the luscious kind. You only knew of Declan's touch, the succulent highs and lows. The amorous sublime.

A gentle hand glides over your ass before massaging the plump cheek. Your frantic cries are a mumbled mess as you're pushed higher and higher into the pleasurable abyss from Rupert's caress.

He winds two fingers into your core, cursing from your tightness, and splays his dexterous digits along your walls. His thumb lands square on your clit, swiping back and forth with prowess. "So sweet and responsive. Such a good girl." he curls his fingers along your walls, drawing pathetic noises from your chest.

Your body rolls like waves, back and forth between the two men. Rupert's teeth sink into the tender skin of your ass before a gentle tongue soothes the marks and trails down the valley of your cheeks, causing you to choke around Declan's cock.

A wad of spit lands directly on your rosebud just before a wicked tongue ravishes the tight, untouched hole.

Your belly drops at his vulgar touch. No one ever touched you there before. A heavy wave of arousal slips from your cunt as you fight the urgent need for release. Rupert moans hungrily as he laps the rim of your ass.

Your incessant wriggling alerts Declan to Rupert's perverted actions.

"What'd I say, ya daft cunt?" Declan fumes. His mustache twitches as he shoots daggers at the man posed behind you.

Rupert swirls his tongue one final time before leaving your rosebud with a loud pop. "Sorry, chap. I forgot you haven't filled all her holes yet." The tug of his lips says otherwise.

Declan mumbles under his breath and leans back in his chair, focusing on you. "What'a fuckin' sight," he grunts, yanking your tear-coated face off his girth. His large hand completely cups the side of your face, making you feel like a doll with glossy, swollen lips as he stares at you like a man possessed.

Rupert twists his wrist, and your eyes grow wide as saucers. The need to come moves to the forefront of your mind. Declan can tell you're fighting, doing everything you can to hold back as you're slowly dragged to the edge.

Your jaw goes slack, and eyelids flutter; you're willing to endure any repercussions for coming without approval, but then Declan stamps your orgasm out just as quickly as it started.

"No, no, no. Don' be greedy," he tsks, shoving your dumbstruck face back down onto his length.

With Declan's cock stretching your lips and drooling pre cum over your taste buds and Rupert curling his fingers into the spongy spot behind your clit, your nerves scream for release.

The insides of your thighs are soaked, slick from want and a need held so close yet so far away. A soft cry falls from your spit-stained lips as Declan snatches your head off his cock and curves a large hand under your chin, holding you like a precious piece of art.

His opaque orbs sweep across your face, wild and feral; he's on the edge of breaking but holds steady like the stubborn man he is.

"Come on, Declan, let the girl come," Rupert implores to the stoic man holding captive your utmost pleasure.

The corner of Declan's lips tilts. He knows what'll happen. He can see it in your face, how truly gone you are, how nearly close the dam is to breaking.

"Go on, show 'im what he's missin', Swee'heart." Declan encourages, finally allowing you the taste you've wanted all this time.

Your body writhes in their combined hold with unkempt ecstasy as a ravenous cry fills the large study. You come like a geyser, locking like a vice around Rupert's fingers, forcing a curse from his lips as you coat his wrist and trousers with your creamy release.

"Jesus-" Rupert moans, dark and depraved, watching with rabid fascination as your core pulses in time to the beat of his heart.

Declan gathers you into his arms, away from the still man, propping your knees on either side of his thighs. "Sit on the couch and watch," he orders a dumbstruck Rupert before easing you down on his swollen cock.

A whimper catches in your throat from the obscene stretch as his girth widens your channel for the first time that day. Declan grabs your ass and steadily bounces you on his length, helping you rise and fall since your legs have turned to jelly.

"Gone so dumb, ya can' even move," Declan mocks. Coarse whiskers chafe your skin as he nibbles your chin, pouring filthy praises against your jaw, "Still so tight. Maybe two cocks'll do the trick," he drives his girth into your exhausted body. "Wan' your pretty cunt gapin' fa' me."

The seam of his brown sweater grazes your clit on every thrust; the fibers are soft yet overstimulating, your body boils, on the verge of combusting, and there's nothing you can do.  

A low moan catches your attention, dragging you from your frenzied state. As you turn your head to find the strange noise, you see Rupert with his swollen cock in his hand, barely out of his trousers. His cock weeps, the bulbous tip pulsing red, while he sucks your juices off his glistening fingers like a man starved for days.

His animalistic gaze bores into where you and Declan connect. You can imagine how obscene it is. Declan's sticky balls thwap immorally against your ass. Sticky sounds bounce off the walls as he draws more slick from your core, staining the base of his cock in a creamy ring.

Rupert's eyes flit to yours. You silently mouth his name, playing with the man who's used the women of Rutshire like a kid with infinite toys. The subtle action pushes the posh man over the edge.

Biting his knuckles, Rupert spills over his other set with a ragged string of grunts. The image sets off a chain reaction. You follow suit, crying as you come around Declan's cock, and dragging your other half with you. Declan's thick brows furrow, groaning his ecstasy as he fills you with ropes of white.

The three of you gradually come down from the hedonistic scene. Your hearts beat to their natural rhythm as the birds outside sing a dusk setting song.

"T'was lovely to meet you, Angel," Rupert flirts, cleaning his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself into his trousers. "Hope to see you again real soon."

"Fuck off, Rupert," Declan quips, jutting his chin toward the door.

Rupert sends you a wink before rounding the couch and exits with the fattest smile you've ever seen.

Declan mumbles under his breath and curls his arms around you. He tucks your head under his chin, letting you unwind comfortably before the crackling fire.

"Was that okay, Swee'heart?" Declan's asks with softened eyes.

With a satisfied sigh, you snuggle deeper into his hold, seeking the warmth and protective embrace he can only give. "More than."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[blue-jisungs]

soft-hearted jealousy

#author's note ... i love wonwoo so fucking much did i ever guys tell u that. anywho this one is for zanzan bc i got inspired when we watched the kode ep <//3 and big big biiiig shout out to my beloved @l3visbby for proofreading <3 love u mother

#summary ... you're a little jealous of wonwoo n kerias frienship<//3

#word count ... 986

pssst the fic is referencing this cute vid:( wonwoo looked so good in it btw like what the actual fuck. also keria is my height and i fainted when i saw them hug bye

the door opened with a soft click and then all you could hear was soft patting of wonwoo’s footsteps against the wooden floor. 

sighing, you switched youtube to instagram and tried to act unbothered. but how could you? a reel of a new video featuring your fiancé popped out. a video you have just watched and it made you… a little jealous. 

“bedroom?” wonwoo called, trying to locate you. 

“yea” you hummed back, loudly enough for him to hear you. scrolling down, you noticed another reel. 

the love of your life with a cute, gamer boy. 

puffing your cheeks, you decided to exit instagram as well and check if you had any mails or texts. 

wonwoo entered the room, a small crease between his brows. 

“is everything alright, darling?” he asked, voice smooth as honey. which pissed you off even more. how dares he sound so attractive when you’re mad at him? 

“yes” you grunted a little too sulkily, drawing his attention. 

“oh really? because you didn’t run up to me once i entered the house” wonwoo teased and walked up to the bed, stretching his arms. you lost the battle with yourself and watched him, biting the inside of your cheek. how could one look so good in a plain white t-shirt and jeans? 

“yeah, im fine. how was your day?” you sighed and looked away once you saw he noticed your gaze. with a small smirk, he laid down next to you. the mattress dipped under his weight but that restored the balance – it somehow felt empty when he wasn’t there before. 

“it was good. me and mingyu did a live… i talked to my new friend… we might play a bit today” he answered, eyes tracing your face “oh, the video is out! did you see it?”

you hated how excited he was. and how much you liked it. keria is… 

“cute. i liked it” you mumbled and turned his back to him, fighting a smile. this is ridiculous. 

but it’s just not fair that wonwoo looked so handsome in that video and threw some flirty comments. he was so cocky in it too… 

“cute? yeah, keria is so adorable” wonwoo chuckled and you looked at him through your arm, shooting him a glare “what? what is it?” 

“nothing” you grunted. wonwoo’s lips broke into a grin, finally figuring you out. 

“something is clearly wrong. come on, talk to me” he purred, his hand sneaking its way under your t-shirt. 

“you looked good in the vid” grunting, you tried to surpass a smile. the warmth of his skin on yours sent shivers down your spine but your tried to remain calm. and not fold. 

“really? thank you, darling. keria said he liked my jacket” your fiancé hummed and leaned a bit closer, fingers tapping gently against your ribs. 

you couldn’t control the huff that left your lips. 

“we got along really well, i like his company. he’s so sweet” wonwoo continued to tease you and apparently that did the trick. 

“if he’s so sweet why don’t you date him, hm?” murmuring, you tried to hide your face in the pillow. wonwoo’s fingers ghosting over your skin in a circular motion made you melt, making it impossible not to crack.

“oh?” 

“forget it. go play your stupid games” you scoffed and wanted to move further away from him but wonwoo was quicker. he pulled you closer, calloused hands resting on your hips. 

“are you, perhaps… and i might be wrong here… jealous?” wonwoo’s cat-like adorned his features and you turned around, finally facing him. ebony eyes looking at you with amusement but also love, so much love, in them.

“yes, you’re wrong” you finally broke and cracked a smile, poking his buff chest. wonwoo tenderly grabbed your hand, placing it flat against his chest. his heartbeat softly drummed beneath your palm, making heat rise to your cheeks.

“come on, you know i would never…” he started and you shook your head. 

“it’s stupid and not that serious” you whined, covering your face with your other hand “it’s not the way you were… so flirty… and charming…”

“oh, pretty” wonwoo laughed wholeheartedly, the warm sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. 

you leaned closer and hid your face in his chest, the smell of cologne filling your nostrils. his tender hands moved to the back of your neck, massaging it gently. 

“i made my angel jealous… by talking to my friend?” wonwoo sighed dramatically and you could hear the smile blooming on his lips. 

“it wasn’t just talking! you were so flirty…” your voice was a bit muffled by the material of his t-shirt “or i just… don’t know. you were really something that day, you know? so what if i’m a little jealous, i just don’t want to share you with the world… that much” 

wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat and he observed how you raised your head up. eyes meeting his, cheeks dusted with pink. you were so cute like that… cuter than keria. 

“can i make it up to you?” he hummed, hands trailing to cup your face. 

“a kiss. and no flirting with others, even if it’s a cute guy” you pouted and wonwoo leaned, capturing your soft lips in a sweet kiss. 

before you had a chance to deepen the kiss, he leaned away with a small frown. 

“but you do admit he’s cute, right?” your fiancé asked and you smacked his chest lightly.

“i wish we could adopt him” you laughed, and a grin formed on wonwoo’s face. 

“i’m afraid he’s a little too old for that…'' hiding his face in your hair, you decided to wrap your arms around his waist. 

“he’s 21… still a baby…” you huffed and shortly after, the sound of your laughs mixed in harmony. you guessed you might forgive him, it wasn’t really serious in the first place. 

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,,@mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

[slattlicker]

Schlatt has said in a chuckle sandwich ep that he buys expensive furniture (VERY EXPENSIVE)

and so imagine ted is at his place and he spills something on the couch and so schlatt gets really mad righttt

but later schlatts like fucking u on the couch and u cum/squirt all over it and you think he’s going to be really mad but he loves it and makes u do it again <3

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * visitation rights ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: he hires you to redecorate his condo. you hate the layout. he hates your attitude. the couch is the only thing worth keeping—so, naturally, you try to destroy it. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: inspired by a sinful little ask about furniture, bodily fluids, and schlatt being possessive. i may have taken... several creative liberties ♡ hope that’s okay.

warnings: explicit content (MDNI !!!) · hate sex · exes with unresolved everything · belt kink · oral (f & m) · overstim · degradation · possessive behavior · cumplay · ruined furniture · pettiness as foreplay

✦ note: post-scene behavior may look like aftercare, but it’s more possessive than nurturing. emotional resolution is not present—please tread carefully if you’re seeking softness or a happy ending. there isn’t one.

enjoy, pervs ♡

✧✧✧

schlatt's pov

the condo was a fucking disaster.

to be clear, it was massive—open floor plan, polished concrete, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of the skyline that probably made architects weep. it screamed luxury. class. money.

but whoever had picked out the furniture should’ve been tried at the hague.

there was a sectional couch in deep emerald velvet—opulent, sculptural, stunning—and it clashed with everything else in the room. a glass coffee table sat crooked on a synthetic cowhide rug, as if begging to be put out of its misery. the wall art? faux-motivational quotes in metallic cursive. one said, “hustle in silence. let your success make the noise.”

schlatt stood in the middle of it all with a hand on his hip, coffee in the other, wondering how the hell he let it get this bad.

it wasn’t like he didn’t have taste. he did. for watches. cars. whiskey. leather. things that were loud in quality, quiet in branding. but interior design? that was austin’s thing.

and it was austin who noticed. who took one look around the condo during poker night, laughed for five full minutes, and said, “you live like a divorced banker who just lost custody.”

“fuck off,” schlatt had said.

“seriously. you need help.”

“i’ve got a guy, actually,” austin had added, wiping his eyes. “she’s brilliant. brutal. you’ll hate her. but she’s the best.”

that was three weeks ago.

and now here he was. dressed like he had a meeting on wall street. two undone buttons. rolex peeking from his cuff. coffee in hand like he wasn’t pacing a condo that looked like a tech startup’s idea of cozy.

he heard the knock and exhaled slowly. calm. in control.

he opened the door.

and there she was.

her.

✧✧✧

y/n's pov

you had prepared for this meeting like any other: portfolio, mood boards, fabric swatches, and an ironed outfit that screamed competence. you wore black. structured. polished. earrings small. hair perfect. lipstick unforgiving.

professional.

because you were. this was your job. not therapy. not nostalgia. not a goddamn walk down memory lane.

still, when the door opened, you had to pause for a millisecond.

schlatt.

older. broader. hair a little longer, face a little sharper. he wore the same brand of cologne, though—you caught it faintly as he stepped back to let you in. warm. smoky. familiar.

you ignored it.

“hi,” you said crisply. “i’m here for the walkthrough.”

he blinked. “you’re the interior designer.”

“i am.”

“you’re austin’s interior designer.”

you gave him a tight smile. “that a problem?”

“no,” he said quickly, stepping aside. “no, just—didn’t realize. i mean. wow.”

you walked in without further comment, heels tapping against the hardwood. the place was just as bad as austin had warned.

“jesus christ,” you muttered, surveying the couch. “you let a computer algorithm decorate this place?”

“it came mostly furnished.”

“and you just… kept it like this?”

“i’ve been busy.”

you didn’t respond. you were already taking photos, opening cabinets, checking natural light.

he hovered.

“you’re not gonna—like—mention it?” he asked finally.

you glanced at him. “mention what?”

“that we… you know.”

you tilted your head slightly. “oh. that.”

“yeah. that.”

you offered a dry smile. “ancient history.”

he blinked.

you turned back to your notes. “let’s keep it that way.”

it hit him harder than it should’ve.

because for a second, when he saw you standing there, he thought maybe—

but no. of course not.

you were here to work. you had your clipboard and your laser measurer and your pressed slacks, and he was just the idiot who didn’t know how to buy a rug that didn’t scream cryptobro bachelor pad.

he cleared his throat. “right. yeah. totally.”

you didn’t look up. you just said, “let’s talk about that couch.”

the couch was the only thing in the condo with any real value.

not because of the color. or the fact that it was modular.

because they bought it together.

six years ago. when they still shared keys. and spotify playlists. and the occasional sunday morning worth remembering. it had cost more than some people’s cars—custom italian velvet, deep emerald, walnut trim and brass feet, imported from milan. schlatt had haggled for it like a man possessed.

he remembered how proud he was when it arrived. how the two of them arranged the pieces together, testing configurations, arguing about the chaise. how they broke it in like it was sacred. movie nights. lazy mornings. one disastrous attempt at assembling ikea drawers while tipsy.

it was the only thing he fought for during the breakup.

he’d let you take the espresso machine. the knives. the record player. the apartment.

but not the couch.

and now you were standing in front of it like it meant nothing. like it was just another piece of evidence in the case against his taste.

he watched you jot something down in your notebook, tapping your pen against your chin. you were muttering to yourself. pacing. taking measurements. referencing swatches against the fabric.

and then you said it.

"it’s the only thing worth saving."

you didn’t look at him when you said it. but it stuck. worse than a knife, sharper than pity. because you didn’t say it like it meant anything. you said it like a professional. like someone doing a job.

still, it caught him.

because now you were designing around it.

you’d said it was the only anchor in the entire mess. that everything else had to go. but not the couch.

you circled it like it was art. you built your palette around it. you asked if he remembered the name of the fabric—of course he did. you held up a swatch of slate velvet and murmured, "this might finally do it justice."

and schlatt—who hadn’t thought about milan or memory or what it meant to sit on something shared until this very moment—suddenly couldn’t think about anything else.

✧✧✧

schlatt's pov

it had been three weeks since the initial walkthrough, and schlatt had more or less surrendered the condo to her.

not willingly. not graciously.

because she hadn’t just taken over his space—she’d taken over him. breezed in with that smug little clipboard, those stupidly expensive heels, her swatches and her attitude, and acted like he didn’t even exist outside of her vision board.

now she was seated at his kitchen island, tablet propped up like a guillotine, swatches fanned beside her coffee like an art exhibit. her blazer was flawless. her ponytail severe. she looked like she’d sue someone for misusing a throw pillow.

“mr. schlatt,” you said without looking up, “i’ve mocked up revised layouts for the media room, living room, and bedroom. i’d appreciate your feedback before proceeding with orders.”

he squinted at you. “you’re calling me mr. schlatt now?”

“it’s our professional dynamic.”

“you used to call me ‘baby’ when you wanted something.”

you tapped your screen. “yeah. and you never delivered.”

the grin that tugged at his mouth was involuntary. but you didn’t acknowledge it. you just rotated the tablet toward him, like you were dealing with a difficult client and not your ex.

“this is the proposed media room,” you said flatly. “lighting balance, scale, acoustic layout. i’ve matched the walnut paneling to matte black fixtures and hidden storage. clean. sharp.”

he leaned in. “sharp’s one word for it. looks like i’m about to start monologuing to the avengers.”

you arched a brow. “is that a complaint?”

he shrugged. “it’s the first time this place has looked like it belongs to someone with an actual spine.”

that earned him a flicker of a smile. sharp-edged. pitying. “glad to hear you’re growing one.”

you clicked to the next render.

“for the living room, i kept the sectional. temporarily.”

he tensed. “temporarily?”

you didn’t look up. “it’s the only item in here with visual weight. but it doesn’t fit the palette long-term.”

his voice dropped. “you remember that couch.”

you finally looked at him. “of course i do.”

a silence passed. ugly. heavy.

and then, like nothing, you held up a swatch. “i’m pairing it with smoked oak, brass accents, and tobacco suede. you said you liked warm tones, right? still masculine. just not… depressingly so.”

he scowled. “you saying my place is depressing?”

“i’m saying it feels like a linkedin influencer who drinks four raw eggs for breakfast and thinks a quartz coaster is interior design.”

“jesus.”

you smiled, thin and mean. “i’m trying to help.”

he stared at you. “you’re trying to win.”

“i already did. six years ago.”

he barked a laugh. “you left. that’s not winning.”

you turned the tablet one last time. “here’s the bedroom mockup. layered neutrals. clean textiles. a space for someone who doesn’t wake up and immediately ruin his own day.”

he looked at it. then at you.

and for the first time in the conversation, he didn’t have a comeback.

you took a slow sip of your coffee. “you have until friday to approve the first round of orders. if you ghost me again, i’ll assume you’re too emotionally fragile to make choices, and i’ll do it all myself.”

he leaned back, voice tight. “you always did love being in control.”

“and you always loved being told what to do,” you replied smoothly. “especially if i said it with my hand around your throat.”

his jaw clenched. you smiled sweetly.

“see you friday, mr. schlatt.”

✧✧✧

the condo looked good.

too good.

it had your fingerprints all over it—every clean line, every muted tone, every stupidly perfect shelf styling. and he hated how much better it was. hated that you were the reason.

all that was left was the living room.

and the couch.

your couch. that he fought to keep. that he won.

he walked in expecting to see you fluffing throw pillows or straightening lamps like usual—but you were standing over the tablet with that look on your face. the one that meant you were about to do something calculated and pretend it was casual.

“you’re redoing the living room?”

you didn’t even look at him. “it’s the final piece.”

he stepped closer. “what piece?”

you turned the tablet.

a couch. not the couch. just… a couch. sleek beige leather, boring brass legs, the kind of thing you’d see in a hotel lobby pretending to be chic. it looked like it came with a name like 'angled nugget chaise' and a fake sustainability pledge.

he stared at it.

then at you.

“you’re replacing my couch.”

“it’s not yours.”

that was fast. sharp.

he blinked. “i bought it.”

“we picked it. together.”

“six years ago.”

“and?”

he scoffed. “so what, now you’re just gonna design the whole place to passive-aggressively erase me?”

you looked up, deadpan. “trust me—if i was trying to erase you, i’d start with the whiskey stains in the bedroom and the framed photo of your own car in the hallway.”

“oh, fuck off.”

“no, really.” you tapped the screen with a manicured finger. “this one actually matches the palette. it doesn’t scream ‘mid-twenties man who cried during Heat.’”

he stepped forward. “that couch is the only good thing in this entire room.”

“it was the only good thing,” you corrected. “until i fixed the rest of it.”

his voice dropped. “you’re just pissed you didn’t get to keep it.”

“please.” you laughed, humorless. “if i wanted to keep it, i would’ve. i let you have it.”

“bullshit.”

you folded your arms. “you think i was gonna drag a 700-pound milanese monstrosity up three flights of stairs in a walk-up just to remind myself of you every day?”

his jaw clenched. “you think it reminds me of you?”

“god, schlatt,” you snapped, voice low, venomous. “you live like a man still clinging to the best thing he ever had and fucked up anyway.”

silence.

searing. ugly. real.

you both stood there, frozen. the couch between you like a crime scene neither of you could stop revisiting.

you arched a brow. “still can’t handle being told the truth, huh?”

he looked at the tablet again. “that couch is fucking ugly.”

“so were you. i still slept with you.”

his eyes snapped back to yours.

and for a moment—just one—there was no condo. no layout. no job.

just you. him. and six years of quiet, rotting history embedded in green velvet.

then he laughed. dry. humorless. “i’m flying out tomorrow.”

“good for you.”

“gone four days.”

you tilted your head. “i’ll hold down the fort.”

he watched you—suspicious. silent.

then turned away, muttering as he headed down the hall, “don’t touch the fucking couch.”

you didn’t answer.

just smoothed your blouse, closed the tablet, and gathered your things like a professional.

like someone who’d made peace.

like someone who hadn’t just been given a four-day window and a very, very stupid challenge.

and when the door closed behind you—

you were already texting your movers.

✧✧✧

he noticed the second he stepped through the door.

not because the replacement was ugly. god, no. it was—objectively—beautiful. italian leather, camel-toned, butter-soft. sleek lines. deep seats. the kind of thing you’d see in a luxury showroom with price tags that didn’t use decimals.

but it wasn’t his.

it wasn’t theirs.

the couch was gone.

the emerald velvet. the walnut trim. the brass feet. the years of history sealed into the seams. gone.

he stood in the middle of his living room like someone had died there.

for a moment, he thought maybe he was losing it. that she’d just rearranged things. moved it to another room. he checked. bedroom: still the same. media room: untouched. storage: empty.

that fucking couch was gone.

✧✧✧

“austin.”

“hey, man! how was the trip?”

“austin. where does she live?”

there was a pause on the other end of the line. “…what?”

“the couch is gone.”

“oh.”

“she stole the couch.”

there was another pause.

then, cautiously: “schlatt. buddy. you’re the one who said she could take full creative lead.”

“i meant the walls! the bookshelves!”

austin sighed. “you’re calling me because your ex—who you kept hired—replaced the couch she probably still dreams about burning, and now you’re having a meltdown?”

“it’s our couch...she wouldn't burn it.”

“yeah...you remember that she left you six years ago, yeah?”

“i want her address.”

austin groaned. “god, it's JUST a couch!”

“austin.”

“fine. but i’m not bailing you out if this turns into a felony.”

✧✧✧

he shows up at your place just before sundown.

no warning. no text. no civility.

he knocks once, hard, and waits.

when the door opens, you look stunned for half a second—until your eyes flick to the man in front of you, and your mouth curls like you’ve been waiting for this.

“you took the couch,” he says.

you blink once. innocently. “i updated the layout.”

“you took the couch.”

you lean against the doorframe. “and replaced it with one better suited to the home’s color story and modernized atmosphere. i even upgraded the seating depth.”

“that couch is mine.”

you snort. “please. you barely noticed it in the shop window, you were so worried about being early to the Duomo. you just paid for it.”

he steps forward. “you had it removed while i was out of state. that’s premeditated.”

you fold your arms. “and what are you gonna do? call the cops? tell them your evil ex reclaimed the overpriced sofa you emotionally imprinted on like a fucking duckling?”

he scowls. “you don’t even want it. you just wanted to take it away from me.”

you smirk. “exactly.”

it hits him like a slap. because she’s not even denying it.

“you’re insane,” he says.

“you’re welcome,” you repeat, stepping back toward the door.

but instead of retreating like a normal person, he moves. fast.

“schlatt—”

he wedges his foot in the doorway and muscles his way past you like he owns the place.

“are you serious—?”

“i’m taking the fucking couch.”

“you are not taking the couch.”

“it’s mine!”

“you gave me control over the layout!”

“i didn’t say steal the one good thing i had left!”

he’s already halfway into the living room, arms braced against the back of the couch like he’s going to deadlift it out the door by sheer rage and spite.

you follow after him, seething. “do you have any idea how deranged you sound right now?”

“oh, i’m sorry, are you not the one who surgically extracted my soul-couch while i was 900 miles away?”

you whirl around the arm of the couch to face him. “you abandoned that couch to a fake cowhide rug and a hustle grind mindset poster. i fucking rescued it.”

“you kidnapped it!”

“you’re lucky i didn’t torch the rest of your awful furniture and salt the earth!”

he lunges. not at you. at the couch, like he’s going to hoist it right over his shoulder and walk out the door. it doesn’t budge.

you shove his arm. “get your hands off it!”

he shoves back. “get your hands off me!”

you stumble, nearly trip on the rug, and he instinctively grabs your arm—steadying you—and then—

there’s a beat.

just one.

the grip doesn’t loosen.

your face is close to his now. too close. breathing hard. cheeks flushed. chest heaving.

you hiss, “let. go.”

but you don’t move.

and neither does he.

his voice drops. rough. “you don’t even want the couch.”

your eyes flash. “no. i just want you to suffer.”

and then—

he kisses you.

hard.

rough and hot and furious.

your teeth clash. your hands push. pull. your mouths crash like something breaking. it’s not tender. it’s not sweet.

it’s years of resentment and want and what if all igniting at once.

you break for air, gasping, but don’t move away. he’s still gripping your arm, and your hands are fisted in his shirt like you might throttle him or yank him closer. or both.

“you’re such an asshole,” you breathe.

“you stole my fucking couch,” he growls back.

you grab his face. he kisses you again.

this time, it’s worse. this time, you moan into it.

and that’s all it takes.

something in him snaps—like your mouth unlocked a door he’s been holding shut for six years.

he pushes you backward without breaking the kiss, hands gripping your waist. you hit the back of the couch hard—the couch—and he crowds you against it like a man who’s been starving.

“this what you wanted?” he growls against your mouth, lips slick, voice wrecked. “steal my shit, bait me into losing it—was that the plan?”

“no,” you gasp, shoving at his chest, only to claw his shirt back toward you. “i was just aiming to piss you off. the rest is a bonus.”

he huffs out a laugh, biting at your jaw, dragging his teeth across your skin until you shudder. “you’re a goddamn menace.”

“and you’re predictable,” you shoot back. “you think i didn’t know you’d come for it?”

his mouth is hot on your neck now, biting just hard enough to make you hiss.

“you always were a fucking brat,” he mutters.

you dig your nails into his back. “you always liked it.”

he growls—actually growls—and lifts you like it’s nothing. your back hits the couch cushions and he follows, mouth devouring yours, one hand already sliding up your thigh with zero patience, zero hesitation.

“gonna fuck you right here,” he murmurs, voice low and venomous. “on the couch you stole. gonna make it mine again.”

“you wish,” you breathe, grinding up against him. “you couldn’t handle me then.”

“oh, sweetheart.” his hand slips between your legs, and you gasp. “i can handle you just fine now.”

you arch under him, legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. he’s kissing you like a man drowning—rough, relentless, with teeth and tongue and six years of anger slamming into every movement.

you hate him. you hate him so much.

but god, he still knows exactly how to ruin you.

your blouse gets shoved up. your bra pushed aside. his mouth is on you, sucking and biting hickies into your skin.

“you want it rough?” he mutters. “you want me to remind you what this mouth can do? what these hands used to do?”

“you owe me,” you gasp, nails dragging down his back. “you owe me six years of orgasms and a new espresso machine.”

he huffs a laugh, breathless. “fine. let’s settle the debt.”

and then he’s moving down.

fast. desperate. determined. you don’t even have time to be smug. you barely have time to breathe.

because the second his mouth hits you—

you go silent. eyes wide. breath caught.

his tongue is cruel. precise.

your hand flies to his hair before you can stop yourself—fingers curling in tight, nails scraping across his scalp like you’re staking a claim.

he groans into you.

it’s low. guttural. monstrous.

and he doubles down.

tongue dragging through you in slow, devastating strokes, nose brushing where you’re aching, lips sucking your clit into his mouth with a rhythm so deliberate it makes your toes curl.

“fuck—” you breathe, voice wrecked.

he doesn’t let up.

he doesn’t want to let up.

because this is about more than making you come—it’s about proving something. about punishment. about pride. about planting his name back into your skin with nothing but his mouth.

you pull his hair harder, tilting his head just so—and he lets you, humming against you like he wants you to take control just to prove he’ll rip it right back.

your hips twitch, buck, grind—and his hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place like you’re some desperate little thing he’s keeping pinned just to watch you squirm.

“stay still,” he mutters, voice muffled. “you wanted this.”

you don’t answer. you just tighten your grip in his hair and pull.

he grunts at that. nips at your clit in retaliation— enough to make your legs jerk as you yelp at the sudden pain.

your thighs are trembling. your grip on his hair is bruising. your head tips back against the couch cushions, mouth falling open, every breath a broken little sound you hate giving him—but you can’t stop.

not when he’s flicking his tongue just right. not when he’s groaning into you like he likes this. like he missed this.

he pulls back, spitting warm and lazy right onto your cunt—then spreads it with his tongue, slow and smug.

“still with me?” he mutters, thumb pressing hard at your inner thigh to hold you open.

you glare down at him. “barely.”

“good.” his mouth finds you again. “shut up.”

and you do. because the second he locks back in, there’s no room to talk. just heat. pressure. tongue working you over like he’s methodical about it, like there’s a pace he’s decided on and he’s not changing it for anything.

your hips twitch again. he slams a hand down on your stomach—flat, solid, grounding.

“don’t move.”

you’re barely breathing now. hands twisted in his hair like rope. mouth open but nothing coming out.

your head spins.

he hums against you, tongue flicking harder now. tighter circles. crueler rhythm. like he can feel how close you are and wants to make it hurt.

“fuck, schlatt—”

he cuts you off with a sharp slap to your thigh. not hard. not gentle. just enough to sting.

“don’t say my name like that,” he growls. “you know what to call me when i'm giving you everything you want.”

you bite your lip at that, the title stuck in your throat.

he notices.

his mouth curls into something slow. smug. dangerous.

“hm,” he says, tongue flicking once—deliberate, precise—right over the spot that makes your breath hitch. “thought so.”

you glare down at him, eyes glassy. your voice comes out low. strained. “don’t get cocky.”

he drags his mouth over your cunt again, slow and wet. “oh, baby.” another stroke. “i’m already there.”

you want to hit him. you want to ride him.

you want to wipe that look off his face with your thighs around his head and your fingers digging into his shoulders like you’re anchoring yourself to a sinking ship.

but right now, you’re boneless—wrecked—half-shaking and flushed all the way down to your chest.

he sits back on his heels, lazily licking his fingers like he’s tasting victory.

then he nods at you—chin tilted, tone cool. “on your knees.”

you don’t move.

he waits.

one beat. two.

you roll your eyes. “still bossy.”

“and you still like it,” he says, already reaching for his belt.

you hate that he’s right.

you push up slowly, legs unsteady, jaw tight—but you go. you kneel in front of him, still flushed, still breathing hard.

he pulls his pants down just enough, cock already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip.

you look up at him, glare sharp.

he tilts his head.

“what’s the word?” he asks.

your lips part. the word still burns. still chokes.

but the way he looks at you—like he knows you’ll say it, like he’s earned it—

your throat clicks.

“…sir.”

his breath stutters.

just for a second.

then it’s like a switch flips—his eyes go darker, his grip in your hair turns solid, possessive.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice low, rough. “there she is.”

the belt slides from his loops with that unmistakable hiss of leather, and you freeze—not scared. just…watching.

he holds it up. lets it hang between two fingers. then steps forward and wraps it around your throat. snug. not choking. not yet.

he pulls it just enough to lift your chin. make you look at him.

“keep your mouth open and your manners sharp,” he warns. “you know what to call me.”

you blink up at him, wide-eyed. lashes fluttering.

then your mouth curls.

and you murmur—soft, sweet, poisonous—

“yes, daddy.”

his expression snaps.

the belt tightens—not harsh, just a warning. his free hand grips your jaw.

hard.

“try again.”

you smile, all teeth. “master?”

his hand slams to your cheek—not a slap, not quite—but a sharp tap, a reset. his thumb pushes your jaw open.

“you’ve got one more chance to behave,” he growls. “say it right.”

you tilt your head just enough to test the belt's pull.

and purr, "sir."

his jaw clenches. nostrils flaring.

then his hand is back in your hair, belt still tight in his grip.

“open your mouth, since you’ve got so much to say.”

you do.

he feeds it to you inch by inch, slow and steady, keeping control with the belt as a leash—guiding you like he’s done this a thousand times.

you hollow your cheeks. he groans. head tipping back for a second before locking eyes with you again.

“that’s it. just like that.” he hisses between his teeth. “always took my cock so fucking well.”

you hum around him, eyes narrowed.

his hips twitch.

“fuck, don’t—don’t pull that shit,” he mutters, voice tight. “you hum again, i’m gonna come down your throat too soon, y/n."

you do it again.

harder.

and his hand tightens on the belt. yanking you forward just a little—not enough to choke, but enough to remind you who’s holding the leash.

“you’re such a fucking brat,” he growls. “look at you. on your knees. drooling all over me like this is what you were made for.”

spit’s already running down your chin. you don’t care.

you grip his thighs for balance, working your mouth over him, letting him hit the back of your throat and stay there.

he groans—deep. fucked. eyes fluttering. “goddamn.”

you bob your head, slow at first, then faster, messier—let your nose press to his skin, let your spit coat everything.

he’s cursing under his breath now, hand gripping the belt like he’ll lose it if he doesn’t have you tethered.

“good fucking girl,” he grits out. “look at you. letting me use your mouth like it’s mine. like you never left.”

you look up at him, eyes glassy, face wrecked.

his hips snap forward at a punishing pace.

you gag. swallow around him. don’t pull away, no matter how sore your throat is gonna be in the morning.

he groans—loud, uncontrolled. “shit, i’m gonna—”

you pull off with a loud, wet pop.

he looks ruined. flushed. chest heaving. belt still clenched in one fist like he’ll drag you back if you try to run.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

then smirk.

“missed this, sir?”

he stares down at you.

“get on the couch,” he says, voice like gravel. “hands and knees.”

you start to turn, blouse still bunched up beneath your arms, skirt hiked up, underwear somewhere on the floor.

he stops you with a tug on the belt.

“hold on.”

you glance back, breathless. “what now—”

rip.

the sound of fabric tearing cuts through the air like a gunshot.

you jerk as your blouse splits down the middle—threads popping, buttons scattering across the floor like shells.

“jesus—!”

he grabs the back panel, yanks again, and it comes clean off your arms, tossed over the couch without ceremony.

“you don’t get to look like you’re still in control,” he mutters, already reaching under you to pull the bra straps down. “not when you’re drooling all over my cock and soaking my couch.”

your bra barely holds on for another second before he snaps the clasp and peels it off like an afterthought.

you’re left in just your skirt, belt still looped around your throat, breath coming fast.

he steps back, takes you in—naked from the waist up, flushed, wrecked, trying to pretend you’re not into this.

then?

he rips the skirt at the zipper.

doesn’t even try to undo it.

just fists the fabric and pulls, and when it tears at the seam, he grins like it’s his favorite sound in the world.

you gasp, spinning halfway toward him. “that skirt was custom!”

he grabs your jaw, fingers digging in just enough to make you still.

"does it look like i give a fuck, dollface?"

then he turns you.

bends you over the couch like you weigh nothing.

hands and knees, belt still snug around your neck, chest bare, legs spread. what’s left of your outfit barely clings to you—torn, wrinkled, meaningless.

his palm lands hard on your ass once—twice—and then he’s lining up behind you, fist still wrapped in the belt around your neck.

“spread.”

you do.

you’re still catching your breath when he pushes inside you with a brutal thrust.

no warning. no easing in. just ownership.

your entire body jolts forward, hands scrabbling against the cushion.

“fuck!” you choke, back arching, walls clenching around him like your body’s trying to process the shock.

he groans—low, rough, like something primal just cracked inside him.

“still so fucking tight,” he mutters, fingers digging into your hips like he needs to ground himself. “six goddamn years, and you’re still perfect.”

you laugh—breathy, sharp. “don’t get soft on me now.”

he slams into you harder.

you yelp.

“that soft enough for you, sweetheart?”

you twist your head, glare over your shoulder. “i’m not the one simping.”

he growls and grabs the belt again, yanking your head up as he leans over you.

his voice is a rasp against your ear.

“say it again.”

“what?”

“say my name. right.”

you grit your teeth, spit pooling in your mouth.

“…sir.”

he groans, biting down against your shoulder—not enough to draw blood, just enough to make you jump.

“good girl,” he mutters. “knew you’d come back to me.”

“wasn’t for you,” you snap. “it was for the couch.”

his hips snap forward so hard the couch creaks under both of you.

you scream.

“liar,” he says. “i bet you planned this. you continued working for me...just to get fucked like this. to be ruined like this. and you know what?”

you’re gasping. shaking.

“just for that—you’re gonna come two more times,” he growls, “before i even think about pulling out.”

your laugh is wrecked. bitter. “what, trying to make up for six years of failure all at once?”

he grabs your hips tighter—slams in deep. you yelp.

“still running your mouth, huh?”

“still overpromising and underdelivering,” you bite back, breathless. “some things never change.”

he leans over you, the belt pressing against your throat as his body folds over yours. you feel him everywhere—skin, heat, teeth against your neck.

“say that again,” he hisses. “say it after you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

you whimper—but your tone’s still defiant. “bet you said that before you missed the launch party i wasn’t invited to.”

he stills.

his breath hits the back of your neck.

“you left,” he says, voice low. controlled. dangerous.

you shove back against him, grinding. “you let me.”

the next thrust is brutal.

you cry out, face pressed to the cushion, fingers fisting the ruined fabric beneath you.

“i told you i needed time after that promotion—”

“you vanished,” you spit, choking on the words. “you finally made it big, and i found out from a tweet.”

“you weren’t there at the party!”

“i wasn’t on the list, asshole.”

he growls and pulls the belt tighter—not choking, just enough to keep your breath on a leash.

“you think i just forgot about you?” he snaps. “that couch was the only fucking thing i kept because it mattered.”

your voice breaks. “you think that makes it better?”

“i think you wanted me to leave it. so i couldn’t have anything we built together.”

you twist beneath him, gasping, hate and arousal knotted together like wire. “i wanted you to look at it every day and remember you fucked it all up.”

“you think i don’t?”

his voice is wrecked now. too honest.

“i sit on this couch every goddamn night,” he mutters, thrusts slowing. “and all i think about is how you looked the day we bought it. that stupid smile. the fucking champagne. you remember that?”

your breath hitches.

“…yeah. i remember you spent half your paycheck on it.”

he slams back in—deep. angry.

“yeah. i fucking did.”

you’re trembling now—overstimulated, furious, close.

“schlatt—”

he growls, “try again.”

“…sir.”

“good girl.”

his hand drops to your clit—fingers circling fast, mean.

you sob through your teeth, legs shaking. “i’m—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he snaps. “do it while i’m inside you. while you’re on this fucking couch we both worked and bled for.”

you cry out as it hits—sharp, brutal, a full-body collapse that steals your breath and leaves you soaked all over again.

he groans loud behind you, grip tightening, pace faltering. “one more.”

you shake your head. “i can’t—”

“yes you can. you will. you owe me.”

you try to speak. to push back. but he doesn’t stop.

not until you're twitching.

not until you're a mess of tears, spit, sweat, and slick.

you’re already coming—sharp, sudden, clenching around him so hard he chokes on his breath. you gasp, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open against the cushion as your whole body convulses.

but he doesn’t stop. not for a second.

his rhythm stutters, then doubles down.

“uh-uh,” he growls, hand slamming back to your hip, cock still fucking into you without mercy. “we’re not done.”

you whimper. “schlatt—”

“sir.”

your voice breaks. “sir—please, i can’t—”

“yes, you fucking can.”

then he yanks you up.

one brutal pull, and your spine is flush against his chest, his arm locked tight around your waist to hold you upright. he keeps fucking you—deep, relentless—while your knees barely stay under you, every muscle twitching from the last orgasm.

his other hand grabs under your thigh and lifts, forcing one leg up and open across the couch cushion, wide and vulnerable.

you try to squirm, but he’s got you pinned—mouth at your ear, voice a low snarl.

“touch yourself.”

you hesitate, shaking.

“i said—” he thrusts in harder, hips slapping loud against your ass— “touch yourself.”

your hand flies down. fingers shaking, slick already everywhere. you circle your clit like he told you to, gasping, sobbing, overstimulated out of your mind.

“harder.”

you obey.

your other arm reaches back, blindly grabbing at him—fingers tangling in his hair like you need leverage just to stay conscious.

he groans, hips stuttering as your nails scrape over his scalp.

“that’s it,” he breathes. “fucking mess. just like i remember.”

you’re whining now—nonsensical, desperate, legs quaking.

his mouth is at your jaw, then your cheek, then your neck, biting hard enough to leave something.

“you wanna cum again?” he hisses.

you nod frantically. “y-yes—fuck, yes, sir—”

his pace slows—not softer. just calculated. controlled. cruel.

“then say it,” he growls. “say you’ll give me the couch back.”

you choke. “wh-what?”

“say it.”

his thrusts stay steady, thick and deep and devastating, hitting everything with no mercy.

you squirm in his grip, breath caught between a sob and a scream.

“c’mon,” he murmurs into your ear, voice almost sweet. “you’re not gonna make me ask again, are you?”

your hand’s still between your legs, rubbing fast, shaking. you’re right at the edge—vision blurred, body twitching.

“say it,” he commands. “say it and i’ll let you cum again.”

“okay,” you gasp. “okay, it’s yours—fuck—you can have the couch back—”

“louder.”

“i’ll give it back—fuck—sir, i’ll give it back—!”

that’s all he needed.

“good girl.”

his hand drops from your thigh to your clit, slapping it once—wet and mean—and you scream.

you come again like a flood.

like your whole body’s been wrung out, broken open, used. it splurges out from where you're still connected to him, hitting the couch with an audible squelch, and his groan is the loudest yet.

“fucking look at that,” he mutters, watching the mess spread under you. “you just squirt all over this thousand-dollar couch for me, huh?”

you can’t answer.

you can barely breathe.

and that’s when he lets go.

his arm slips from around your waist and you drop—sloppy, gasping, twitching—straight down into the ruined cushion.

your legs give out completely.

you collapse into the mess you made, thighs still shaking, cunt dripping, face flushed and slack. you try to push yourself up, but your arms aren’t listening.

he steps back and watches you. wrecked. ruined. leaking and twitching on a soaked designer couch like it’s your only purpose.

his hand wraps around his cock—wet from you, flushed, pulsing—and he starts to stroke.

fast. aggressive. claiming.

“look at you,” he mutters, panting. “fucking pathetic.”

you lift your head weakly, blinking up at him through your lashes.

he grips your hair with his free hand—pulls your face up, not gently, not tender. just enough to make sure you’re watching.

“you want it on the couch?” he breathes. “or on that pretty little mouth that won’t shut the fuck up?”

you can’t speak. you just open your mouth.

invitation.

his groan is pure filth.

“of course you do,” he mutters. “of fucking course you do.”

it doesn’t take long.

not with the image of you soaked and broken under him.

not after watching you come so hard you gushed for him.

he strokes faster, hips twitching—

“take it.”

—and he cums.

with a grunt, his cock twitches in his hand and ropes of hot cum paint across your lips, your chin, your cheek—everywhere.

you flinch, but don’t pull away. you let it happen.

you let him mark you.

he releases your hair. you slump against the cushion again, breathing hard, face sticky, thighs wet, skin flushed from hairline to chest.

there’s a beat of silence.

he tucks himself back into his pants, exhaling slow like he just wrapped a goddamn meeting.

then—without a word—he walks into your kitchen.

your kitchen.

like he’s done it a hundred times. like he never stopped knowing where everything is, even if he's never been here before. are you this predictable with where you keep everything?

you hear the fridge door open.

a cap twist.

the clink of glass.

you don’t even try to move.

you’re still sprawled out—soaked, twitching, your cheek stuck to the cushion. your legs feel like overcooked noodles and your brain is full static.

footsteps return.

he rounds the couch, drink in one hand, chilled water bottle in the other, paper towel tucked under his arm.

sits on the clean end of the couch like it’s a fucking chaise lounge.

and then?

he pulls you gently—almost absentmindedly—across his lap.

you end up draped over him, belt still around your neck, skin sticky and hot, face flushed with exhaustion and—fuck—humiliation.

he hums to himself.

sets the glass on the side table.

cracks the water open, holds it to your lips.

you sip automatically. you’re too stunned to do anything else.

then he sets the bottle down, takes the paper towel, and starts wiping his cum off your face like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

no rush. no embarrassment. just the kind of slow, self-satisfied care you give to something you own.

he undoes the belt around your throat, finally. tosses it beside him.

you don’t thank him. you don’t speak. you don’t cry.

but your eyes sting—because this isn’t about the sex.

it’s about the fucking couch.

you gave it back.

you promised him.

he sees it. sees you. the way your jaw tightens. the flicker of shame.

and he smiles.

soft. evil.

“y/n,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “you can have visitation rights.”

you want to shove him off the couch. but instead, you lay there.

silent. face clean. body ruined.

couch: totally, utterly his.

[kittiegut]

Can you give us good murdersim games to check out?

YAYY SURE!!

!! games listed are nsfw and contain gore !!

okay so first of all we have btd,btd2 and tpof, i dont think i have to talk much about them cause everyone knows em

theres also Till death do us part by EP, but i played it and it was kinda ass ngl, but if you played all the btd games u can check it out too :p

theres also two other games by ep called code zero and mark of belial but i havent played them yet

Dont romance me

Okay this one is defo my fave, its very much like btd, exept you dont get kidnapped, you instead get taken to an alley, where u get (yk) and killed, theres one ending tho where u survive ;3

She was swallowed by the sun

Okay, this isnt really a murdersim, there is no mc and you only follow the story of two lesbians, not making any choices, but the ARTSTYLE , soundtracks and lore (that im honestly too stupid to comprehend, but it sounds interesting lmao) makes up for it. by definition its an ero guro yuri vn, but i think it fits.

wh4t 1 w0ulndt d0

Okay this one is very very extreme so uhhh

anyways,, some time ago you succesfully escaped from your delusional psychopath (a really hot one at that, with big fat ol titssSSSsss) kidnapper, butttttt hes back, and he kidnapps you again and keeps you in his shed, also the mc is actually pretty smart and the game overall is quite realistic, i think its really great and i really recommend it if youre into more extreme stuff!

Perfect love

Okay this one is not murdersim either, but i just havvve to recommend this,, the MC is cruel and manipulative, theyve been always searching for the 'right' one for them (aka a yandere) but since no one is insane enough, theyve decided to manipulate a soft vurneable boy, and shape him into the perfect one for them. The artstyle is really nice, you get to be mean and evil, and you can also shape him into anyone you want ; from someone who will protect you with his entire soul to someone who will cut your limbs off and keep you in his basement. lotsa endings and lotsa choices! super cool!!!

tbh thats it really, so heres a list of links to murdersims that i havent finished or played yet ;p

[absolutebl]

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

My Top 10 BLs of 2024 are (in order)

1 Cosmetic Playlover

Japan Gaga

I love this little show. It's a classic office BL about the older workaholic who loves his job and the younger upstart who unexpectedly loves his boss.

It’s a hyung romance where everybody is extremely earnest and sweet and pretty about everything. Except our seme, who is slightly unhinged and a little obsessed in all the ways one likes best from Japan. Utterly charming unexpected gem of a show. What fun!

Already in hard rewatch territory.

2 Love For Love's Sake

Korea iQIYI trigger suiside

KBL isekai about a man who must win a game by convincing a reserved teen outcast to fall in love with him. Of course, that teen represents himself and his own unhappiness. Like many queer narratives, this show is actually about self worth, trust, and found family, and it is VERY on the nose. But I don’t expect subtlety from my BL and I enjoyed it's truly lovely redemption arc and earnest performances. The narrative tension is tight, and the pacing is killer.

That said, I did find the flow a touch disjointed with overworked filming angles and poorer than average captions, but the consistency of tone, script, and immersion is spectacular, beyond the norm for BL (even KBL). You will drown in this show and like it that way. The leads have fantastic chemistry and it's ultimately highly rewatchable and utterly charming, which counts for a lot.

3 Unknown

Taiwan YouTube

Unknown is a wonderful BL with a pitch perfect portrayal of long term pining, age gap, and the stepbrothers trope. The acting and chemistry are ON POINT (especially from the leads) which made the resulting characters very believable.

When it dwells in intimate family drama, it's stunning. It's slightly less successful when it leaves the home and goes gritty. It's few flaws are the result of curtailed length. It could have used more breathing room to deal with side plots, characters, and companion character development. The editing was occasionally choppy and packed with flashbacks that broke the emotional tension. Still, those are mere quibbles for me. This is an excellent show based on one of my favorite old school BL tropes that I know I'm going to be recommending for a long time.

4 We Are

Thai iQIYI

I unabashedly loved show. It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 6!) but I’m so glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial.

Essentially, this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. It’s not being harsh with us or it’s characters the way some offerings of this ilk have been (side eyes Friend Zone and Only Friends) nor did it tumble into Gen Y chaos. In fact, this reminded me more than anything of a refined Love Sick - just with older characters and occurring within a genre that has matured over this last decade. It has that close queer friendship group meets earnest gentleness that made me adore Love Sick and Make It Right so much.

In other words, this was Thai BL at its finest, finding it roots again 10 years on, but also stretching upwards and showing us what it could do with that original seed. So? I adored it. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit.

5 Cherry Magic (Thai remake)

Thai grey

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up).

Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stands strong.

I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew (who may be my favorite OG branded pair still in operation). Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Highly recommended.

6 Wandee Goodday

Thai YouTube

Such a FUN show. A charming quintessentially modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL.

It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. With out question it's best traits are active positive representations of green flag boys, communication, and grown-up relationships but the chemistry is ALSO on point. I personally can't (and don't) ask for much more than this from my BL.

Highly recommended as one of 2024's best pick-me-ups.

7 The Sign

Thai YouTube

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it.

Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was.

Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not.

Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing.

I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired.

Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN.

Emphasis on balls.

8 Century of Love

Thai Gaga

This is a very pretty drama about a young man who fell in love with a nice girl 100 years ago, and when she died in his arms, he was cursed to live until he could meet her reborn self. Only this time around, she’s reborn into the body of a man. Or is she?

I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and shizz. I like this pair (it’s not DaouOffroad’s fault I didn’t enjoy their first series.) Daou’s wushu is snazzy and we got a unique meet cute. (Erm… Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?)

Ultimately, this is I Feel You Linger in the Air + First Love Again, rather than (as one might expect) Until We Meet Again or The Director Who Buys Me Dinner.

The leads turned in great performances, although Daou outclassed everybody else on that screen by making us really believe he's over 100 years old.

It’s a good story and a great BL and I can’t find any major faults with it beyond a certain level of camp that is sadly endemic to lakorns. I’m going to give it credit as the kind of BL that one could safely recommend to lovers of melodrama and historical romance, without having to qualify it as “good for a BL.”

It was, to put it succinctly, a VERY ENJOYABLE show.

9 Sugar Dog Life

Japan grey

This is a phenomenally charming and adorable little romance about a forlorn university kid and the police officer who adopts him. They are relentlessly kind to each other, in fact it’s an extremely kindly show over all (everyone in it is so nice to everyone else including us) so there’s very little tension. But what it lacks in drive, angst, and complexity it makes up for in earnest acts of service and simple affection.

These two are basically boyfriends from the get-go, it’s just one of them acts like it and doesn’t realize it and the other one realizes it and has to figure out how to make it a reality. It’s incredibly sweet and incredibly wholesome, nourishing but delicious.

Everybody who can, should watch this show. It will make you feel better about life.

10 The Rebound

Thai iQIYI

I am well aware that objectively this show was, erm, NOT good. But this was a sports romance Thai BL pulp with everything I could have asked for given this sub genre. More, actually, since MeenPing are both great basketball players and the team component really did form part of the connective tissue of the show (vital in a sports romance IMHO since these are band-of-brothers narratives).

Meen has his shirt off within the first two minutes which is all I needed but he's still pretty great as the sullen secret-keeper against Ping's cheerful survivor - childhood sweethearts torn asunder and now reunited. Then Frank sweeps in to give everyone a bad case of second lead syndrome.

I always try to judge BL for what it is AS BL, and what it’s trying to do within its own territory and purview. This did exactly what it claimed on the tin: gay boys play b-ball and fall in love. That was all I wanted from it. Sure there was random kidnapping and a light bought of mass murder, but what’s a BL in 2024 without a touch of the mafia? You do you little pulp, I’m disposed to be pleased.

These BLs all got 9/10s from me. Unlike in 2023, I did not hand out any 10/10 to any BLs in 2024.

The 13 BLs That I DNFed in 2024

(no particular order)

7 Days Before Valentine

Bad Guy My Boss

Bad to Bed

Beside You

Close Friend 3 Soju Bomb

Happy of the End

Kiseki Chapter 2

My Universe: Refund Love

Ossans Love – Season 2 (5 years later)

Playboyy

The Hidden Moon

The Whisperer

Time the series

You can consider these my "worst BLs of 2024." I am no longer a BL completest, too many aired in 2023 and it broke me. I now DNF all whenever I feel like it.

Codicil

I only carefully track/watch Thailand, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan. Other countries are not fully represented.

2024 - My Numbers

So my spreadsheet chronicled 109 BLs that finish airing in 2024 (down substantially from 138 last year). Japan has increased production slightly (length and consistency), Taiwan stayed steady, but Korea cut back - as did Vietnam, the Philippines, and Thailand.

73 = watched & reviewed (almost 30 less than 2023! I fell off the wagon in a big way)

3 = I'm still thinking about watching/finishing (4Minutes, Blue Canvas of Youthful Days, Spare Me Your Mercy)

20 = CNF (could not find)

13 = DNF (which accounts for how few very low scores I handed out, I just stopped watching). Speaking of which...

Ratings spread

(# of stars. & # of BLs given that rating)

0 (see DNFs instead)

1 - IT'S DEPRESSING they killed the gay, save yourself

1 - I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM WATCHING AND NEITHER DOES IT

3 - FATALLY FLAWED but still basically BL, however… do we want to support this kind of behavior?

3 - WATCH IF YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO but don’t expect much, it’s a total hot mess

9 - WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED probably around the ending or in narrative structure/cohesion or censorship

24 - RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS i.e. isn’t quite BL, convoluted, not strictly HEA, too short/long, or chemistry issues

22 - RECOMMENDED some concerns around tropes (like dub con) or story structure but still satisfies as BL

10 - ABSOLUTELY RECOMMENDED probably a few pacing issues or one flaw

0 - HIGHLY RECOMMENDED faithful to tropes, happy ending, good chemistry, few flaws, high rewatch potential

Favorite 2024 call out?

The Sign's nod to UWMA

Most adorable meta moment of 2024?

Wandee Goodday

Most stunning execution of a traditional trope in 2024.

Began Beginning (the shoulder lean)

(source)

[sofs16]

foodie

been obsessed with chicken shop date ep w lando so you already know…(this oneshot is really bad sorry)

sorry ive been ia:/ i will be updating let you break my heart again this week!!!!! hope you’re all doing well<3 love, sof!

ynfoodtrip

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 6,383,282 others ynfoodtrip link in bio 🧡

view all 358,382 comments

ynsfoodie

liked by 4,272 others

ynsfoodie no because wtf is LANDO NORRIS doing with my wife subtly FLIRTING WITH HER AND ASKING HER TO FOLLOW HIM BACK😭😭😭😭😭 SHE GAVE NO NOTICE FOR THIS VIDEO.

view all 1,483 comments

ynsbabe she just followed him back😭

ynfoodtrip

liked by landonorris, and 2,188,282 others

ynfoodtrip Just a casual Wednesday, you?

view all comments

landonorris My boo😍

⤷ ynfoodtrip my pookie😘🧡

⤷ landonorris What’s a pookie

⤷ ynfoodtrip means you’re cute

landonorris Having a wonderful morning, thank you for the follow! ⤷ ynfoodtrip Good to know, hope it carries on that way!

ynsbabe … GET AWAY LANDO NORRIS SHE WAS MINE FIRST

user1 i can’t even blame Lando, look at her!!!

[ liked by landonorris ]

| MESSAGES BETWEEN YN AND LANDO

LANDO SPEEDY DRIVER

you think i’m cute?

YN FOOD EXPERT

Did i give off the impression I didn’t think that?

LANDO SPEEDY DRIVER

I don’t want to assume;)

| MESSAGES BETWEEN CARLOS AND LANDO

CARL IN CARLANDO

My pookie🥹😍❤️🤙😏

LANDO IN CARLANDO

Shutttupppppp

I don’t know how to flirt help me

CARL IN CARLANDO

You flirted for a good 10 minutes in your Youtube video, disgusting

LANDO IN CARLANDO

i really like herrrrr but i dont know how to let her know mate

CARL IN CARLANDO

Take her out to dinner

ynfoodtrip

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and others

ynfoodtrip 10/10

view all comments

user4 if i didn’t know better i’d think this was a date with lando norris….

ynsupdate THE TWO PLATES AND WINE 😭😭😭

landonorris’ instagram story | ♫ my girl • temptations

replies

user3 THIS IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED

user2 i see you yn….

user5 LANDO BF ERA

carlossainz55 I’m guessing the date 2 months ago went well😂

⤷ landonorris Very well

⤷ landonorris My rizz was enough😜

⤷ carlossainz55 Why are you lying...

ynfoodtrip

liked by landonorris, and 4,283,585 others

ynfoodtrip It’s so romantic in Parissss

view all 261,575 comments

sabrinacarpenter 🧡🧡🧡

user1 so gf coded.

user7 we know it’s lando, yn… STOP SOFT LAUNCHING ITS BEEN 3 MONTHS

user8 would’ve been believable it wasnt lando if he continued commenting on her posts like he did for 10 months😭

ynfoodtrip

liked by landonorris, and 7,262,585 others

ynfoodtrip

view all 2,684,293 comments

landonorris my boo (for real this time)

user2 the no caption is so real

carlossainz55 Hello, sister in law! 👧

⤷ landonorris mate..

⤷ ynfoodtrip Hi, Carlos Sainz Brotha in law! 👶

⤷ user38 THE BABY EMOJI😭

landonorris

liked by ynfoodtrip, and 9,473,684 others

landonorris been in love with you before that video that further made me want to spend every millisecond with you

view all 3,372,281 comments

ynfoodtrip ngl ive been following your f1/ karting journey since you were 11…..

⤷ landonorris WHY AM I JUST FINDING OUT AHOUT THIS

ynfoodtirp i love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuüùúūûü:)

⤷landonorris i love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuüùúūûüuuuuuüùúūûüuuuuuüùúūûü too:)

[louisupdates]

With the first quarter of the 21st century coming to an end, Billboard has been looking back on the 25 Greatest Pop Stars of the Past 25 Years. Below, we take a deeper look into the solo career of Louis Tomlinson — one of the members of our No. 22 pop stars, One Direction — and how his songwriting, originally honed in 1D, has helped him develop into one of the group’s strongest breakout artists.

When One Direction officially went on hiatus in 2015, Zayn Malik dropped Mind of Mine in 2016, Harry Styles’ eponymous LP dropped in 2017, Niall Horan followed with Flicker later that year and Liam Payne’s First Time EP arrived in 2018. Louis Tomlinson, however, took his time with releasing a full project – and entered an era of healing and self-discovery that saw him realizing his potential as one of 1D’s most self-actualized artists, even if not necessarily the starriest.

Even before going solo, Tomlinson showed he was meant for breakthrough success while in One Direction. Longtime Directioners know that Tomlinson wrote more songs in One Direction than any other member, penning long standing hits including “Perfect,” “History” and “Fool’s Gold” and proving his fortitude as a songwriter who understands lyrical cleverness and crafting the indescribably catchy refrains necessary to produce arena-ready hits. Beyond his musical abilities, Tomlinson’s sense of humor and friendship with fellow 1D members also ensured fans had a soft spot for him.

However, when he did go solo, the road was slippery at first. He teamed up with Steve Aoki for his first solo release “Just Hold On” in December 2016, and just three days before its release, Tomlinson’s mother died of leukemia. He still took the stage to perform the song on The X Factor, the first public testament to the star’s strength and dedication to his musical craft.

Tomlinson’s resilience amid adversity continued as he navigated the music industry. The star signed with Epic Records in 2017 and released a few singles – including “Miss You” and the Bebe Rexha and Digital Farm Animals-assisted “Back to You.” While the infectious hooks to both tracks could have easily solidified Tomlinson as a pop mainstay, the two singles didn’t perform as well as expected on the charts: “Just Hold On” peaked at No. 52 on the Billboard Hot 100 and “Back to You” hit No. 40, while “Miss You” missed the chart altogether. Ultimately, a full-length album never materialized with Epic Records.

Tomlinson shortly got back on his feet, as he always does, and signed with Arista Records in 2019 – where he honed his talent as a songwriter, this time feeling comfortable enough to tackle more vulnerable topics in his music. His first release under the label was “Two of Us,” a heart-wrenching tribute to his late mother. “I know you’ll be looking down/ Swear I’m gonna make you proud/ I’ll be living one life for the two of us,” he sings in the chorus, giving a glimpse into what would soon become a musical career full of honesty and vulnerability.

Unfortunately, shortly after its release, another hardship struck Tomlinson’s life when his 18-year-old sister Fizzy died of an accidental overdose. Both the release of “Two of Us” and the tragedy that followed showed just how close Tomlinson’s community of fans is, as they showered him with online love and support in the months that followed.

After taking some much-deserved time to heal, he announced in August of that year that his debut solo album was on its way – and shortly after, he released a follow-up single, the rock-leaning, drumline-driven “Kill My Mind.” Tomlinson admitted that he finally found his stride. “I’m actually really proud and relieved to finally find my place, find my lane musically,” he told Hits Radio Breakfast at the time, indicating a moment of relief amid his turbulent few years.

Tomlinson’s debut solo album, Walls, arrived in January 2020 and while it hit the Billboard 200‘s top 10, it was met with mixed reviews from critics, who suggested that the heart he wanted to portray wasn’t quite there. His growth outside of commercial success proved otherwise, as he had been spending the past few years building a solid identity not only as an artist, but also as a person. While some of the other One Direction alums are still finding their footing with their solo sounds to this day, Tomlinson grew strongly into an instrumentation-focused pop-rock artist whose lyrics go beyond the cookie cutter sentiments you might expect from a former boy band member.

And soon, all the hard work – both personally and musically – finally paid off. Faith in the Future, his 2022 sophomore solo album, debuted at No. 1 on the Official U.K. Albums Chart. In the United States, Faith In The Future debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Album Sales chart, and at No. 5 on the all-genre Billboard 200, his highest-charting set yet on both tallies. The album’s success, as well his sold-out live shows on its accompanying tour, not only showed the still-standing Directioner devotion to Tomlinson, but also made it clear that he picked up a slew of new fans along the way.

Tomlinson’s self-awareness was evident on the album’s lead single, “Bigger Than Me.” “When somebody told me I would change/ I was afraid, I don’t know why/ ‘Cause so does the world outside, I’ve realized/ It’s bigger than me,” he sings – indicating that the key for solo success all along was being himself, and letting go of the pressure that fame brings.

While Tomlinson has still yet to score the major chart hits stateside that his 1D bandmates essentially achieved right away – and has been more focused on his 28 clothing line the past couple years – he’s proven that he doesn’t need traditional pop crossover success to have a bright future ahead of him. With another couple albums and tours that continue to establish his identity and expand his artistry, it wouldn’t be shocking to see him making the jump to arenas in the not-distant future. Louis’ solo career may not have gotten off to the perfect start, but it just might end up being perfect for him in the long-term anyway.

[naebaetwsog]

Its me again!!! With another request! Inspired by the recent tws club eps, Jihoon waking up the other members was so cute and funny and so.... how would tws react to their gf waking them up? (Hope you're having a nice day ❤️)

Tws when their gf wakes them up°

genre. fluffy

warning. mention of eating

pairing. bf!tws x fem!reader

a/n. Unfortunately I’m in those days soo, but anyways sorry for the delay and I hope you are having a good day too.

BTW, I have a X(twitter) account about tws, if you guys want you can follow me there and I might be more active there… @ohkhoontws here is the account <33

Hope you guys enjoy 😊

Shinyu

Shinyu is not waking up unless he’s being babied. This is scientifically proven at this point.

The moment you start kissing his face, massaging his hair, and gently playing with his puffy morning cheeks, he stirs—his face heating up even in his half-asleep state. His lips twitch into a small smile, and his flustered self tries to hide under the blankets.

But when you whisper sweet things to him, telling him how cute he looks, he’s gone. Completely weak for it.

Next thing you know? His strong ass pulls you into the blankets with him, wrapping himself around you and mumbling, “Five more minutes.”

Those five minutes turn into five hours, and before you realize it, the sun is setting. The only reason you both leave the bed is because hunger finally wins over sleep.

Dohoon

Dohoon is a light sleeper, and it’s even worse when you’re in the same bed.

No matter how quietly you move during the night—whether to grab water or find a snack—you always catch him staring at you from across the room like some kind of guardian angel. Then, without a word, he gently takes your hand and guides you back to bed.

But when you wake him up? Oh, he loves it.

Normally, you’re the one who sleeps in, so when you gently shake him awake, he’s already smiling before he even opens his eyes. The moment he does, he immediately hugs you, pulling you close as if you’re going to disappear.

After staying like that for a while, he orders your favorite breakfast, making sure your morning starts as perfectly as possible.

Because let’s be honest—Dohoon is just that kind of boyfriend.

Youngjae

The hardest one to wake up.

You try. You really do. But every single time, Youngjae just buries his face against your chest, hugging your waist for dear life, mumbling in his whiny, sleepy voice,

“Just five more minutes, please.”

Those five minutes? Never-ending.

You try everything—pulling the blankets away, lightly shaking him, even tickling him—but this grown man refuses to move. You eventually give up, accepting your fate as his personal body pillow.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Youngjae peeks one eye open, gives you the softest morning smile, and stretches like a lazy cat.

And then? You yap about everything while staying in bed until hunger forces him to cook breakfast for the both of you.

Hanjin

This is the cutest thing you’ll ever witness.

The moment you touch Hanjin—whether it’s softly stroking his cheek, brushing his hair back, or whispering good morning—he wakes up immediately, his lips curling into a soft, shy smile.

It’s like a Disney movie—birds could be singing outside, butterflies floating in the air, and he’d fit right into the scene.

Before even thinking about getting out of bed, he babies you first—cupping your face, stroking your hair, peppering soft kisses on your forehead, all while whispering,

“Good morning, love.”

Only after he’s had his moment with you does he finally get out of bed, ready to start the morning routine—which includes doing your skincare for you and making sure you eat properly.

Because to Hanjin, taking care of you is just part of his morning ritual.

Jihoon

First of all, when you wake up, Jihoon is in the weirdest sleeping position known to mankind.

His limbs are everywhere, the blanket is half on the floor, and somehow, he’s upside down.

Naturally, you take pictures for future blackmail before attempting to wake him up.

But of course, Jihoon being Jihoon, pretends to still be asleep—mumbling nonsense, grinning like an idiot as you try to shake him awake.

This goes on for a full 30 minutes.

Then, out of nowhere, he traps you. Arms, legs—completely wrapped around you. You cannot move.

“I’ll only let go if we cuddle for five more minutes,” he bargains, his head now buried in your neck.

You try to resist, but let’s be real—he wins every time.

And when he finally gets up? His sole purpose for the day becomes teasing you endlessly. But you don’t mind, because, at the end of the day, he loves you to death.

Kyungmin

Kyungmin is so precious.

The second you try to wake him up, he’s already awake. Not because he wasn’t sleeping deeply—he’s just another light sleeper, so the moment he feels you moving, he automatically wakes up too.

But instead of just getting up, he hugs you tightly, burying his face in your neck as he whispers a sleepy, “Good morning.”

You swear you can feel him smiling against your skin.

After staying like that for a few minutes, he slowly sits up, stretching with a little yawn, before pulling you up with him.

And, like clockwork, the first thing he asks?

“What do you wanna eat?”

Because before anything else—before checking his phone, before fully waking up—he just wants to make sure you start your morning right.

[simplygojo]

GhostFace Ep. 5 - Ino Takuma

Author's Note: HAPPY HALLOWEENNNNN! I am releasing all the fics I never got time to finish/post this week as my big Kinktober finale, I hope you enjoy. Be safe always <3 This is a request from one of my BESTIES @nanamisrighthand <3 I LOVE INO AND I LOVE YOU

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Ino Takuma x f!reader

Kinks: Face Fucking & Edging

Word Count: 2K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, face fucking, rough sex, light punishment, just the usual smuttyness

The movie flickered on the screen, painting the room in hazy flashes of light as you and Ino sat together on the couch, curled up against each other. 

You’d chosen a horror movie for the night, one filled with suspense and masked killers—since it was the night before Halloween—but your attention had wandered from the screen about halfway through. 

Sitting there with him, feeling the warmth of his arm around your shoulders, you couldn’t resist the itch for a bit of playful trouble.

Ino was fully absorbed in the movie, eyes flicking between scenes, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your arm.

That subtle focus only made you want to grab his attention more, to see that subtle shift in him whenever you pushed just the right buttons.

You looked over to the end of the couch where his Ghostface mask from his costume rested, its empty, hollow eyes staring back at you.

With a sly smirk, you leaned forward, snagging it and slipping it over your head. 

You knew he’d notice in seconds—the mask’s eerie, exaggerated grin against your face, your body language shifting to play up the role.

It only took a second. His eyes shifted, glancing at you before rolling, clearly unimpressed. 

He chuckled softly, a little dismissive. “Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” you hummed, leaning back, crossing your legs as you stared him down through the mask. 

“Thought maybe I’d get into character, you know?” You tilted your head, tracing your fingers along the mask’s mouth in a way that was anything but innocent.

“Nice try, but it’s not working on me,” he muttered, shifting in his seat and attempting to keep his eyes trained on the screen. 

But you noticed the way his jaw clenched, his fingers twitching slightly against his thigh as you ran your hands down your chest, teasing him with slow, deliberate movements.

You leaned in, murmuring, “Not working on you? Really?” 

You were inches from his face now, close enough for him to feel the breath beneath the mask, the edges of it grazing his skin.

Ino scoffed, adjusting himself on the couch and keeping his eyes forward, though the tension in his body was unmistakable. 

“You’re just bored,” he said, though his voice was a little tighter than before, fingers gripping the edge of the couch cushion. 

But you could see that look in his eye—the glint of intrigue he couldn’t fully shake, the slow unravelling of his calm facade.

Sensing his resolve waver, you pushed further. 

You shifted closer, sliding one knee over his thigh and settling onto his lap, the movement slow, deliberate, as you let your weight sink into him. 

His eyes flicked down, watching you with a tense gaze, trying to keep his cool as you settled right against him, your warmth pressing over the unmistakable hardness beneath his jeans. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning in until your breath ghosted over his neck, feeling him tense as your fingers trailed lightly over his collarbone, tracing the line of his jaw with a soft, teasing touch.

Ino’s hands hovered at your hips, twitching as if fighting the urge to pull you down harder. 

You shifted forward, the friction unmistakable, and he let out a low, restrained breath, eyes narrowing as you ground down just enough to let him feel the heat of you through the thin layers separating you.

"Still not working on you?” You murmured, letting the words trail off, your lips brushing just over his ear. 

You rocked against him a little harder, feeling the delicious press of him against you, his control hanging by a thread as you moved slowly, torturously, in his lap.

Ino’s jaw clenched, his fingers digging into the edge of the couch, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a thrill down your spine. 

For a second, you could see the tension cracking, his hands moving as though he was about to grab you—but he forced himself still, holding onto that last shred of restraint even as you continued to roll your hips, feeling him grow harder beneath you with each teasing grind.

Finally, you leaned back, tilting your head as you traced your fingers over his chest and down, glancing back up with a challenging look. 

His gaze darkened, his breathing coming faster now, every muscle in his body taut with a restrained hunger that was only waiting to snap.

And then it did.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the mask from you, slipping it over his own head, his voice dropping to a dangerously low murmur. 

"You wanted to play, right? Let’s see if you’re ready for this.”

With that, he lifted you off of him, standing you up right in front of him. His head tilted slightly as he looked it you in a moment of eerie silence.

“Run.” Ino said in a sharp whisper. And you gladly did as he said.

With one last glance at his imposing figure, clad in the mask with that dark, hungry look gleaming through the eye holes, you spun around, a rush of adrenaline kicking in as you dashed down the hallway. 

You could hear his steady, ominous footsteps trailing you, never too fast but close enough that you felt the constant pull of his presence.

Heart racing, you made it to the end of the hallway, looking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him moving with terrifying precision, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that made you shiver. 

A grin broke across your face as you darted into the next room, breathless with excitement. 

But no sooner had you turned the corner than you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you back against his chest.

“Not so bold now, are you?” He murmured, voice muffled but rough beneath the mask, his grip firm and unyielding as he spun you to face him, pressing you back against the wall. 

His hand slid down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as his free hand traced your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look down at you through the mask’s hollow eyes.

You swallowed, and your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, anticipation tightening every inch of your body. 

He took a moment, his gaze lingering over you, savouring the effect he had on you before he reached down, his fingers deftly lifting your shirt up, over your head, tossing it aside with a casual precision that made your pulse race even harder.

"Ino…” You whispered, trying to read his expression beneath the mask, but it only made him more unreadable, his touch firmer as he leaned in, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“You want to tease me?” He growled, his grip firm around your waist, pulling back just enough to catch your gaze, a wicked glint in his eyes. 

"On your knees," he commanded, his tone low and husky, leaving no room for argument. 

The intensity in his voice sent a fresh wave of anticipation through you as you slowly lowered yourself, your lips parted slightly as you looked up at him, every nerve heightened as you knelt before him, looking up, waiting.

Ino took in the sight, his hand reaching out to trace a thumb over your pretty lips, eyes dark with desire.

"Look at me. I want to see that pretty face of yours while I fuck it." His words made your pulse race, a thrill of excitement running through you as his thumb slipped past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, urging you to open wider.

He slid himself between your lips, the tip grazing against your tongue, and you held his gaze, feeling the weight of his intense focus as he began to move. 

Each stroke was slow and deliberate at first, giving him a chance to savour every inch disappearing into the warmth of your mouth. 

His hand rested at the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair, gently guiding you to take him deeper, a satisfied hum escaping his lips as he watched you, enthralled by the way you looked up at him, eyes filled with lust.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice darkening with each slow thrust, "Take every inch." 

His grip tightened in your hair, his rhythm picking up, each movement sending a jolt through you as he held you in place, his gaze never leaving yours. 

Your hands gripped his thighs, grounding yourself as he moved, each thrust steady and powerful, the mask casting an eerie shadow over his face as he took in every expression you made, every desperate gasp and moan muffled against him. 

His breathing grew heavier, his hand guiding you as he sank deeper, pushing himself to the back of your throat with a force that had you gasping, cheeks hollowing as you worked to keep up with his pace.

"You look so good like this," he rasped, his voice rough with pleasure, a primal satisfaction lighting up his eyes as he took in every reaction, every desperate gasp, and muffled moan you let out as you tried not to gag. 

Each thrust was powerful, relentless, his need pouring into each movement as he held you right where he wanted, your submission driving him to the edge.

He pulled back for a moment, letting you catch your breath, but only long enough to lift you to your feet, spinning you around and pressing you forward, bending you over as he pulled your hips back against him. 

His hands moved over your bare skin, lingering on every curve, every inch he could claim.

“Thought you could get away with that teasing?” His voice was low, ragged with need as he positioned himself behind you, his body pressing you against the wall as he filled you with one hard, consuming thrust that had you gasping, clutching at the wall to steady yourself. 

Each thrust was deep, merciless, leaving you breathless and wanting more. 

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he filled you, his pace unrelenting, driving you to the edge until you were gasping, gripping the wall for support as he whispered against your ear.

“Think I’d let you get off so easy?” he murmured, barely letting you breathe as his fingers toyed with you, his grip steady, keeping you right where he wanted.

Each thrust was calculated, dragging you to the edge before he’d still, savoring the frustration that colored your gasps and quiet pleas. 

You tried to push back against him, to meet his rhythm, but his hands held firm, keeping you there on the brink, trembling under his control, body aching with the need to be taken past the breaking point.

With each relentless thrust, he kept you on the edge, his movements precise, leaving you breathless and desperate. He paused just long enough to feel the quiver in your thighs, the slight whimper escaping your lips as you hovered at that unbearable threshold.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice firm but laced with that undeniable hunger. 

His hand slid down, fingers brushing against you, only to pull away just as your hips arched in silent pleading. 

Every time you thought he’d finally let you tumble over, he held back, savoring the way your body tensed and trembled under his grip.

When he finally leaned down, pressing the weight of his body into you as he whispered against your ear, his voice was a low, wicked murmur. 

“You wanted to tease, didn’t you?” He pressed himself deeper, filling you, each thrust now unrestrained, relentless, his rhythm pushing you right to the point of shattering.

The sound of his breathing filled the space, rough and uneven as he watched you, his own restraint beginning to falter. 

You felt his grip on your hips tighten, his rhythm breaking, as he finally drove you both over the edge, sending you spiralling together in a rush of tension finally released.

And from that moment forward, you and Ino watched the entire Scream series every Halloween.

[miyamiwu]

How to watch Legend of Hei in the original Chinese audio with English subs

YouTube version of trailer

In honor of Movie 2 coming out on July 18, here’s a guide on how to watch Movie 1 (and the series).

But first, some context: The 2019 movie is actually a prequel to the flash animation series, which first came out in 2011. And the world of Legend of Hei is so vast and complex that there’s even a prequel prequel manhua of the story, which is set hundreds of years of back. (The manhua is called Lanxi Zhen, and it has different protagonists.)

If you want to engage with the story chronologically, then the order is: manhua -> movie 1 -> series. But you don’t have to do that. In fact, I myself don’t read the manhua because I couldn’t get used to Xiaohei not being there.

Movie 1 can be watched on its own without any context from the series and the manhua, and I think going into it blind would actually be more enjoyable. We don’t know yet what events will be covered in Movie 2, but I’m guessing it’s gonna pick up from where Movie 1 left off. I doubt it will cover the events in the series, so it’s probably safe to put off the series until after Movie 2. But if you do decide to watch the series, then just Season 1 should do for now, since it’s pretty much slice-of-life. Season 2 is where it gets more plot-y.

(Watch links under the cut!)

Movie 1

It’s available in Netflix with English subs, but I honestly don’t recommend it. Netflix literally translated the characters’ names into English, and it’s so cringe 😩. I also compared the Netflix subs with some fansubs, and the Netflix version really took a lot of creative liberties in the translation. (There are also English and Japanese dubs available on Netflix, but I am begging you to watch it in Chinese)

Here’s a link to the movie with English fansubs. Download the file and play it in a media player that can open .mkv files with soft subtiles, like VLC. The file has two type of subtitles, one labeled [Troy] and the other labeled [Netflix]. Make sure you’ve selected the former.

Series

Here’s a GDrive folder link containing all episodes of season 1 with English subs in 1080p. To watch, just follow the same instructions under Movie 1.

Edit: If you don’t wanna download, you can also watch it on YouTube. Here’s a link to all S1 eps combined into one 720p video.

By the way, each episode in the series is only 5-8 minutes each, so don’t be surprised that it’s too short.

Series (Season 2)

Although the fandom calls it season 2, it’s actually just a continuation of the ever ongoing series. “Season 2” just covers episodes 29-40.

S2 has no official English subs, but this channel on YouTube has fansubs of all the eps separately.

Edit: But I prefer the subs in this combined version because it’s more complete and accurate

That’s it, enjoy!

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 176 spoilers except its mostly me having a great time bc the panels this week were incredibly fun YAY and thoughts below the cut

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oh my god these motherfuckers are up to their scheme again. LMFAOOOOOOOOO LOOK AT THEM HAHAHAHAHAHA

IT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY THAT THEY'VE MASTERED THIS ROUTINE. THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO TAKE TIME TO PREP ANYTHING JAVIER JUST KNEW. THAT'S SO GOOFY LMFAOOOO I LOVE THESE TWO SO DAMN MUCH HAHAHAHAA

also obsessed w javier's expression. whenever he has these moments his expressions are always the BEST because theyre SO MINIMAL. the slightest curl of his lip,,, the menace in his eyes,,, compared to lloyd's expressions, javier's are always technically lowkey, but the artist always gives that lowkeyness an extra edge in the art that completes the entire panel. i love javier's expressions so much WAHAHAHA THEY'RE SO GOOD

LOOK AT THEM BEING MENACES ADLFKJSLDJKF absolute thugs. god it's like when they're together they sync a braincell that tells them to go Scheme mode. they're so ridiculous i love them sm,,, alicia ur gonna have to get used to this LMFAO

ALSO I AM SO SO HAPPY LLOYD IMMEDIATELY WENT TO COMPROMISE W THE SPIRIT KING. I KNEW U WOULD THATS MY BOY ILY BUDDY!! i really like how nice his expressions are here,,, i want to think that there's a part of him in there that's actually genuine abt this. esp w the panels that are upcoming,,,

like he looks so soft here! it's sweet,,, i'm really glad he's doing this,,,

AND THEN THIS. THIS PANEL OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. THIS IS GORGEOUS I HAVE TO SHOW IT

REALLY enjoying all these soft lineart from lighting moments that the artist is putting in. god i love this so much,,, there's a metaphor in here somewhere,,, idk,,, i like this a lot!!! alicia seeing pieces of suho's heart poking thru,,, like sunrays,,,, hehehe sweet,,,, so sweet,,,

i love this panel to pieces but i do think its funny af that in this panel lloyd is crouching like that LOL what a creature ily bud

ALSO. ALSOO lets talk about what alicia's thoughts are here as she's looking at him,,, she says smth along the lines of "ur interesting to me bc i cant figure u out,,," and i love that a lot,,, maybe im looking too far into this but i read this as her saying "im seeing pieces of who u really are, i want to figure u out / explore ur true and honest self". she's learning more abt the side of lloyd thats empathetic, thats selfless, that brings out a good outcome for everyone,,,, she wants to see more of that side of him methinks,,,,, regardless of what she actually meant by this, it's a very cute moment and i really like it,,,

it again makes me think that alilloyd as a ship has soooo much potential. it could be so so good,,, this moment especially helps give it a little ground to stand on,,, i just wish there was a stronger foundation,,, it could be even greater,,, ohhh,,,, maybe in future eps who knows? we'll have to wait and see,,,

also hi artanis!! this line from her caught my eye i wanted to bring it up

im willing to bet that this belief is also one that was sourced from credos/jang-cheol, just like the rock paper scissors game and just the farming/pacifism schtick as a whole. it probably played a part in how he had to convince the demons to follow him in the first place,,,

this could also indicate that living honestly and working to earn is a principle that jang-cheol followed in korea, and he decided that he would stick with it when he became credos. alternatively, he had the complete opposite principle (he was a gamer after all, with a max level character,,, could imply that he spent all his time on the game) but when he got transmigrated, he realized that he had another shot at making a living honestly and decided to commit to that. there isn't really enough to make a solid conclusion on how jang-cheol lived, but this is an interesting indicator and i think it's worth a bookmark! i hope the prequel gets a manhwa so i can read it,,, manifesting,,,

oh also the railroad! yay!! y'know idk if this is quite the preservation of nature i had thought they would do LOL this,,, could be considered manipulating the ecosystem too much,,, but also i am not a biologist! so i wouldn't know! it looks nature-preserved so i'll take it!

seems like the demons won't be too far from home too, since they'll probably be the ones employed to run the railroad tracks once it's complete. lloyd essentially gave them jobs! yahoo!

AND THEEEN THE SECOND REALLY NICE PANEL FOR THIS WEEK YAYAYAYY WAAAAHHHH LLOYYYD LLOYD

i will be honest the glare is pretty uh. harsh but i dont mind at all bc YAYYY YAYYY NICE MOMENT WITH LLOYD YAHOO YAHOO. he seems and looks super tired here too,,, one of the panels before this was his heart freezing up again and alicia asked if they should stop bc of his heart, but he refuses,,, ghhh,,, stupid fucking martyr i love you stop doing that though please take a break

this panel is again another alicia pov panel and i really really like it,,, he's so Sun character to me idk how to explain that (javier is Moon to me). maybe ill break that down in a different post another time but yeah,,, yeah,,, sun and moon,,, yeah,,,,,,, also alicia is Comet. one day ill elaborate

and then there it is, goofy lloyd panel HAHA there's the greedy front he always puts on, welcome back! alicia's reaction too LMFAOOO she's sick of his antics /lh

like bud u dont have to say anything else,,, we know u care lloyd u dont have to put up the money part at the end anymore,,,,,,, goofy ass

their lil moment here was also rlly cute,,, alicia laughing at lloyd's antics and just. his big ass smile HAHAHAHAH so so cute i love this a lot,,,

and then the railroad got completed YAYY YAYYYY YAYYY ONE STEP CLOSER TO A HAPPY ENDING!!!

lloyd got like a jump ability and according to my mutuals thats not in the novel? so im curious as to what thats for,,, lloyd says it already but yeah he's a swordmaster now and has tons of other skills and summons too. what would a super jump be useful for,,,? so far, most if not all of his skills have had some use in the story,,, skills that are deliberately brought up like this are always used eventually. what in the world will a jump skill do??? what kind of situation will lloyd find himself in?? is this not almost over??? i'm so curious,,,

also this panel lloyd looks really tired, exhausted even,,, his irises look dulled and theres slight bags,,,, the construction plus the effects on his heart is probably doing him in,,,

and then we see him keel over LAKDFJLSDKJF

I GASPED SO LOUD WHEN I SAW THIS AND IM NOT SURE IF ITS OUT OF WORRY OR IF ITS OUT OF GIDDY. bc listen, on the one hand, oh my god im so worried for lloyd please be okay dont DIE. on the other hand,,, on the other, fic-brained character interaction-pilled hand,,, WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP CHARACTER WHUMP WHUMP MOMENT HURT COMFORT. YAHOO FIREWORKS EVERYONE CHEER!!! WHUMP!!! WHUMP IN MY TGED!!! WAOWIE WAOWIE WAOWIE!!!

sorry. my demons. anyway

alicia catching him is so good,,, sweet,,,, so sweet,,,,, ANOTHER POINT FOR ALILLOYD. again i wish the foundation for alilloyd was stronger, bc if they had established it in a better or more solid/connected way this moment would hit even harder,,, BUT NO,,, its missing impact for me simply bc alicia and lloyd do not talk/share/save each other enough. but it's so cute,,, sweet,,, this moment is nice,,, ghhh,,,, i feel heartbroken over this its bittersweet

and off they go,,, yes,,, a queen, her boyf, and her boyf's boyf. beautiful. alicia is carrying him again hehe,,,

off they go to get the eye of summer!! YAYYY!!! lloyd will stay alive!!! YAHOO!!! we are one step closer to beating fate and getting that happy ending,,, hold on lloyd, hold on everyone,,, it'll be over soon! if they don't get a happy ending i am going to cry and sob for forever and ever!!!! i'm serious!!!!!!!!

i genuinely had a lot of fun reading this ep the moments were all so fun and i'm very glad that things are looking up for them,,,!!! this does also worry me that there's going to be one more final obstacle before we actually get their good ending. bc now that i think abt it, getting the eye of summer does save lloyd but it doesn't stop fate,,, so,,, there might be more trouble ahead. but i'm not gonna worry about that right now!!! i'm coping!!! i'm coping.

that's all from me tho,,, i have to get back to the school grind,,, i'll see y'all next time!!!